It's 5:45 – I’m wide awake. Through the bedroom window I see the porch lamp but nothing else. Fog season is here. I slip into fleece, pants, boots. The camera clicks in place on the tripod. I open the front door. Our bare elm looks like the branches might reach down and grab me. I hear a steady trickle of drops falling from the tree onto concrete. The fog hides the houses at the end of the street – all I see are glowing circles of light floating in the distance. 

I don’t always make photos of the things I feel drawn to. It’s cosier in pyjamas. By the fire. With my coffee and cat. Some days the smallest hurdles can be enough to steer me away from my camera. But not today. Today I’m glad I went out and got the picture.