Precarious Hawthorn

I seem to be keeping all the bugs at bay so, armed with a good night's sleep and a promise of brightness in the sky, I headed up on the moor this morning for a run, layered up more than usual as I thought it would be wise to risk getting too warm rather than cold. The temperature has plummeted here and is set to get colder still over the next few days. As it turned out, I was only gifted the odd glimpse of the sun. The cloud rolled in and enveloped the high moor in a veil of mist. By the time I'd completed my circuit of the top and descended back to town it had turned quite grey.

I almost didn't take this shot. This wonderful old hawthorn is actually well protected just underneath the rim of the valley which contains Backstone Beck. I've never tried to photograph it before because the path actually passes above it. The sky was so compelling that I thought there was a great shot if I could climb down underneath. I went back for a quick look but decided better of it, keen to keep running and keep warm in the cold air. I ran a but further but something made me stop and return. I guess you'd call it a blip instinct. That instinct wasn't going to be overruled! Are other people familiar with this unconscious intuition about a shot?

I went back and climbed down the steep heather-clad slope to get a rather precarious foothold in the one place where I could shoot the tree looking up against the sky and free of brambly obstructions. I got the shot that I had seen with my mind's eye. I later took some quite atmospheric shots in the mist, one of another runner here and of some walkers here, but I knew this one was going to be the photograph chosen to be blipped today.