Early Signs: Whispers of Spring, morning light
Mid-March. Ruby and I walked out early—before the frost had lifted, before the world had properly woken. The air still held winter’s edge, but the light had changed. Softer now, and more insistent. A quiet promise.
This image holds that threshold. A single branch, its catkins just beginning to unfurl, catches the morning sun. Fine hairs glow against a shadowed backdrop, and the first green leaves push through—tentative, but certain. It’s the kind of moment you might miss if you weren’t paying attention. But Ruby always notices. She pauses, nose lifted, tail still. I follow her gaze.
There’s a hush to this scene. Not absence, but anticipation. The silence before birdsong returns in full force. Before daffodils riot in yellow. Before the fields shake off their sleep. It’s a visual whisper: spring is coming.
I framed this shot to hold that stillness. No clutter, no noise—just the soft geometry of renewal. The catkins, delicate and tactile, offer texture against the blurred depth of field. The light does the rest, painting warmth where there was cold.
“Early Signs” isn’t just about seasonal change. It’s about noticing. About walking familiar paths and seeing something new. About the quiet companionship of a dog who teaches you to look closer. It’s a reminder that transformation begins quietly, often in the smallest details.
Mid-March. Ruby and I walked out early—before the frost had lifted, before the world had properly woken. The air still held winter’s edge, but the light had changed. Softer now, and more insistent. A quiet promise.
This image holds that threshold. A single branch, its catkins just beginning to unfurl, catches the morning sun. Fine hairs glow against a shadowed backdrop, and the first green leaves push through—tentative, but certain. It’s the kind of moment you might miss if you weren’t paying attention. But Ruby always notices. She pauses, nose lifted, tail still. I follow her gaze.
There’s a hush to this scene. Not absence, but anticipation. The silence before birdsong returns in full force. Before daffodils riot in yellow. Before the fields shake off their sleep. It’s a visual whisper: spring is coming.
I framed this shot to hold that stillness. No clutter, no noise—just the soft geometry of renewal. The catkins, delicate and tactile, offer texture against the blurred depth of field. The light does the rest, painting warmth where there was cold.
“Early Signs” isn’t just about seasonal change. It’s about noticing. About walking familiar paths and seeing something new. About the quiet companionship of a dog who teaches you to look closer. It’s a reminder that transformation begins quietly, often in the smallest details.