Maredumilli is close to home. I thought I knew it well.
But this forest reveals itself slowly, in layers. The ridges stacked behind ridges. The fog settling into valleys, lifting from peaks. The light arriving at precisely the angle it chooses, not the one you plan for.
I came back before dawn, again and again. Each visit added something - a better vantage point, a deeper understanding of the weather, a willingness to simply wait. The fog had to settle at the right density. The clouds had to fill the valleys without swallowing the peaks. Time after time, the conditions fell just short.
On this morning, the forest and I were finally ready for each other. From the thick clouds pooling below to the faint peaks dissolving into the golden horizon, these are the layers Maredumilli had been quietly holding back. And the ones I had been quietly building, visit by visit, long before I ever pressed the shutter.
The forest taught me what life keeps trying to; the most beautiful things rarely reveal themselves all at once. They unfold, slowly, to those willing to return.
Planned. Waited. Earned. One layer at a time.
