Light goes quickly in the mountains, particularly in winter. Days start cold and blue, even with clear skies. They end cold and blue, golden rays barely eking over the stark ridges to illuminate the beech forests of Arthur’s Pass. Golden hour doesn’t really exist here, or if it does, it’s abbreviated to a golden minute. And then all that is left is biting shade and a sky of winter blue overhead, the sun tracking up the slopes and leaving a last searing band of fuchsia on the snowy tops.
That golden minute finds me in a stand of Dracophyllum longifolium – inaka, one of my favourite plants. Its grassy leaves are mottled green and red, caught between the last weak light and the blue winter shade. The forest around me is quiet but for the high and distant peeping of titiponamu – rifleman. A faint breeze riffles through the leaves, stirring a hush out of them. They glow, for a moment, and then fade into the darkening forest. I loosen cold-cramped fingers from around my camera, breathe deep the air that stings my nose, and wander slowly homewards through the blue hour of the mountains.
Clive Lamdin
15 Apr 2020What is there to say but thank you Edin – for this and every other blog you’ve posted. Informative, relevant (particularly in these times), beautiful pictures and sheer poetry. We are all forever in your debt. Thank you
Edin
16 Apr 2020Thank you Clive, I’m glad you’re finding joy in them! All the best.
Denise Poyner
15 Apr 2020Lovely as always. Poetic. I am glad of your posts while we travel this strange journey. Thanks so much.
Edin
16 Apr 2020Thanks Denise, hope you’re doing well in your bubble!
Karen Worton
15 Apr 2020Beautiful! I have loved reading your posts for many years and will continue to do so. Your work and pictures are a real insight and inspiration.
Thank you for sharing.
Karen
Edin
16 Apr 2020Thank you Karen!