
The walk wasn’t planned around birds — it rarely is.
It was one of those late autumn afternoons when the sky feels thin and undecided, pale with mist, as if the day is already halfway gone.

The walk wasn’t planned around birds — it rarely is.
It was one of those late autumn afternoons when the sky feels thin and undecided, pale with mist, as if the day is already halfway gone.

A quiet pause during a winter ride — soft haze, muted colors, and the low sun settling into the landscape
Have you ever stopped during a ride without quite knowing why?
The ride wasn’t planned around a photograph. It rarely is. It was one of those quiet stretches — flat rural roads, bare trees, fields already drained of color, unsure whether autumn had fully let go or winter had truly arrived. The air was cold but subdued, carrying the smell of damp earth, wet leaves, and old snow lingering in the shadows. I let the pace drop, listening more than moving — tires on rough asphalt, breath settling into rhythm, the bike humming softly beneath it all.
Continue reading A Pause in the Cold Light
Warm December sunset over snowy fields and wind turbines — a fleeting winter moment captured during a bike ride
This snowy winter didn’t last long — barely two weeks — yet it managed to completely reshape the familiar landscapes along my favourite cycling routes. And now, even in mid-December, the cold already feels distant. Today was so warm and bright that I went out for a bike ride in just a cycling jersey, feeling the soft breeze on my face and catching that unexpected smell of damp soil warming under the sun — something you rarely sense at this time of year.
Continue reading A Warm Day, A Winter Memory
Winter layers in the hills above Wisła — mist, soft light, and a small hut holding the scene together
Winter mornings in the mountains often feel quiet enough that every little detail stands out — the crunch of snow under your boots, the faint glow building behind the ridge, the way the cold air seems to soften everything in the distance. This frame from Wisła, the hometown of ski-jumping legend Adam Małysz, caught my attention because the landscape naturally arranged itself into layers. All I had to do was respond to what the scene was already offering: shifting tones, mist drifting between the trees, and a small hut sitting calmly in the middle of it all.
Continue reading Winter Layers: Composition & Post-Processing Breakdown
A winter sunrise over my favourite roadside tree — always different, no matter how many times I visit
There’s a small stretch of countryside I ride through often — open fields, a wide horizon, and a quiet group of trees guarding a little roadside shrine. I never plan to stop here, but somehow I always do.
I’ve photographed this tree in fog, in summer heat, in autumn wind, and in deep winter stillness. I even spent a whole year capturing it across the seasons — the story became my four-seasons study of this very place. And still, every time I return, it surprises me.
Continue reading A Familiar Tree at Sunrise — A Landscape That Never Stays the Same
Early snow and a quiet November sunrise — the first sign that winter arrived ahead of time
This year, winter didn’t bother knocking.
It simply walked in — quietly, unexpectedly — on a cold November morning.
The first snow arrived much earlier than anyone around here was ready for. While last year I waited until the end of December to see even a dusting of white, this November greeted me with a thin, crisp layer of snow softening the entire landscape. The air felt different, too — sharper, stiller — as if the world was holding its breath before the true start of winter. Even the sound seemed muted, wrapped in that familiar snowy hush, with only the faint crunch of my boots breaking the silence.
Continue reading When Winter Arrived Early — First Snow of the Season