Held by the Light

The tree stands alone in Lake Wanaka, grounded and unmistakable. Set against lake and mountain, it feels both enduring and quietly improbable.

We were only at Lake W_naka for a single day. I waited, aware that the light might never arrive in the way I had imagined. Hours passed as clouds shifted and softened, obscuring the distant peaks. With each moment of uncertainty, my gaze slowed and settled.

When light finally touched the mountains, it felt earned. Not dramatic, but precise. The scene asked for patience rather than pursuit, allowing the long wait to become part of the photograph.

I was drawn to the tree itself. Rooted in open water, it carried a quiet resolve. Birds arrived and rested among its branches, small gestures that brought intimacy to the wide open space.

This scene has been photographed countless times. I questioned whether I could see it in a way that felt personal or meaningful. What surprised me was not a new view, but how time and attention allowed me to slow down and deepen my appreciation of it.

Seen through Vertique, the composition rises from reflection to cloud. It holds time, restraint, and quiet presence. A reminder that meaning is often found not in rarity, but in how deeply we are willing to look.