A foggy winter evening by a small lake near my home — thin ice at the edges, quiet water, and reeds holding through the cold as the last light fades
There’s a lake near my home — close enough for an unplanned visit, yet distant enough to feel like a small escape. I come here often, especially in the evening, when the light begins to soften and the day slows down. Sunset has a way of doing that — turning a familiar lakeside view into something briefly new.
A distant silhouette settles on a lone tree as an early winter evening quietly fades
It was one of those early winter evenings when the light fades quickly. The air was still, the fields quiet and half asleep, caught somewhere between late autumn and winter. I wasn’t walking with a photograph in mind — just moving slowly through familiar ground near open fields, letting the evening settle in.
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.
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.
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.
Golden birch leaves glowing along a quiet countryside path at sunset
The light was fading fast. I was just finishing up for the day when the setting sun broke through the clouds, setting the entire path on fire with golden light. I had to act quickly. I recomposed and captured a few frames before the color vanished — a perfect example of autumn’s fleeting beauty, whether you’re out for a ride or a dedicated photo walk.
A calm evening encounter — a small bird resting confidently on bare branches, framed by the gentle colors of the setting sky
This small bird perched confidently on a bare branch, bathed in the soft light of an autumn evening. What caught my attention most was how unbothered it seemed — watching me quietly as if posing for the lens. The delicate pastel sky made a perfect backdrop for its patterned feathers.
Golden autumn light after a late-evening ride through the forest — a calm moment of warm tones, mist, and soft golden-hour glow captured on a quiet countryside path
It was one of those quiet late-evening rides on my winter bike — the road bike season already behind me, and the forest paths becoming my go-to escape. The air was cool and calm, with a hint of fog. After riding through a dense patch of trees, I suddenly rolled out into this open field — and this view just stopped me. The low autumn sun painted everything with warm golden light, cutting through the haze and setting the trees on fire with color. I simply had to capture it.
Three roe deer in the evening light — photographed during a late-autumn cycling trip. The golden hour glow added warmth and texture to the scene
Late autumn often brings the best kind of light for photography — low, soft, and full of warm color. During one of my short cycling trips, I noticed three roe deer standing in a freshly ploughed field. The sun was setting, and the orange tones of the soil and the trees in the background created a beautiful golden hour atmosphere. It was one of those moments when everything aligns into a simple but effective wildlife composition.
Horses playing in the golden hour light of an autumn evening
Golden autumn evenings offer some of the best light for outdoor photography. The low sun wraps the landscape in warm tones of gold and copper, creating a perfect atmosphere for portraits and nature shots. On this particular evening, the light filtered through birch leaves and reflected beautifully on the coats of two horses playing on a forest path. I also took a calmer portrait of a single horse, but the dynamic frame with two horses captured the energy and emotion of the season perfectly.
The 1912 dam on the Bóbr River in the Polish Land of Extinct Volcanoes — edited in Photoshop to reveal the soft interplay of light, stone, and reflection
Tucked away in the Polish Land of Extinct Volcanoes, the historic Bóbr River dam, built in 1912, is a fascinating subject for any photographer who enjoys working with structure, texture, and reflection. The composition of stone, water, and soft light seems simple at first glance but quickly reveals its complexity. Balancing the dam’s strong geometry with the delicate, shifting tones of the river requires patience and a careful eye. Scenes like this have always drawn me in — quiet places where light and shape speak for themselves.
A calm evening in the Mediterranean. The setting sun casts shades of orange and rose across the harbor, silhouetting the ship’s masts and palm trees along the shore.
Some sunsets don’t shout — they whisper. On this serene evening along the Mediterranean, the light bled slowly from gold into soft hues of orange and rose. The masts of a lone ship stood tall against the fading glow, while palm trees lined the shore like delicate brushstroke silhouettes. In the distance, hills and mountains softened into a gentle haze, framing the scene with a quiet, timeless rhythm.