Who knew this winter morning’s mantra would be “following the fog?” There are mornings when you head out with a plan. You know those days. We lock and load our mindset with a very specific idea of what we hope to photograph.
But then, something happens. A special light. An unplanned and very unexpected color theory from nature.
Earlier this week, my morning photography intention was simple. I headed toward Northport’s marina to photograph winter ice at sunrise. Frosty textures, patterns, and its unique geometry await. Bundled up, camera in hand, expectations already forming, my wheels rolled down the road convinced I knew where to go and potentially what the day would offer.
That was, until this mystical, glowing haze appeared.
Mindset Shift: Following the Fog
At first it came in pockets, floating low across the landscape. The rising sun illuminated shadows and pale morning hues. Softening and diffusing, transforming the world into layers of pastel light. Pinks melting into rose gold. Dark blues dissolving into icy toned hues. Every curve offering a light change in the mood entirely. My ordinary roadside scenes suddenly felt cinematic and impossibly still.
I slowed down. Then I slowed down even more. Eventually, the marina stopped being the destination.
Following the fog created a renewed sense of place. Everything, I mean everything, felt new and different.
Turning down back roads and familiar routes, they became unfamiliar by atmosphere alone. Fences laced with hoar frost floated into view. Tree silhouettes graced shifting veils of light. Fields faded into softness where earth and sky nearly became one.
As photographers, it’s easy to chase and choose certainty. We research locations, watch weather forecasts, visualize compositions before ever leaving home. Preparation matters as it helps us grow and refine our craft.
The moment felt less like searching and more like listening
Mornings like this remind me that photography, in its most precious state is about curiosity and trusting instincts. Sometimes the best images happen when you allow yourself to respond to what’s unfolding around you versus following the planned destination.
Following the fog demanded both flexibility and patience. Light changed minute by minute. Colors deepened, faded, and returned again in unexpected ways. Nothing stayed long. Each frame felt temporary, as though the scene might disappear if I hesitated too long.
And in many cases, it did. That impermanence is part of the magic in photography.
Standing there surrounded by soft pastels and frost-laden textures, keeping an open mind isn’t just helpful in photography — it’s essential. Creativity often lives just beyond expectation. When we loosen our grip on the outcome, we make space for surprises.
The marina will be there another day. But this morning — draped in fog, painted in pinks and rose gold, guiding me to moments I never planned to find — exists only once.
Author’s Note
Some photographs arrive through careful planning. Sometimes though, the best photographs begin the moment you decide to follow the light, an instinct, instead of the plan. The reality is that many of my most memorable, personal work often lives just beyond expectation — waiting for me to notice if and when I’m willing to change direction.
