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On a journey through the Sahara dust - nature photography in the Wachau

It had been a little while since I had been able to escape the city. Little or large - that is of course a matter of opinion. But my wanderlust had been at the forefront of my mind again for weeks.

Since the day before, the Sahara dust had blown through the warming country, removing the contrasts from the air.

My favourite train to Krems didn't run as usual. I had to take the route via St. Pölten and then the old single wagon that leaves for Krems once an hour. This old train feels unusual these days, with no displays or visible technology, and the old brown seats. But also somehow suitable for the Sahara air.

The empty vineyards awaited me on my walk out of Krems, and the vines still looked like the walking sticks of ancient magicians. Some of the plants had already bloomed and faded away again, probably earlier than it should have, but the wine still needed some time.

I also always need a little time on these hikes before I find my motifs. Nature photography, probably like any other type of photography, requires a little sensitivity. You don't just go into nature and point the camera at it. That feels kind of rude. It takes time to get involved with each other and finally find what wants to be depicted. It also takes time for my eyes to get used to the hazy Sahara sky, which didn't grant us a whole lot of sunlight that day.

And then after the climb to Kreuzberg I gradually found it. The tiny little flowers that spread like a loose carpet over the meadows on the side of the path: in blue, violet, yellow, white they lay there in patches.

The trees still looked like gnarled winter shadows. Some had white flowers, but I had the impression that this didn't quite wake up the old giants. It's probably just too early. An hour too early for us late risers that day. Probably a few weeks too early for the old inhabitants of these landscapes.

Every year we are happy to see the world awaken again. One never gets tired of enjoying the spring blossoms. The joy is sometimes a little worrying.

I focus on the gentle little flowers.

Macro photo of a wild flixweed
Flixweed in macro


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