My maiden experience of falling snow was akin to the flush of first love -- you can’t have enough of it.
Before I drifted into sleep on the first night in Oslo, all I could see (with my eyes closed) was silky powder confetti floating and bouncing around me as in a wedding.
In the picture above, you see streaks of light on the otherwise Prussian blue sky. Pardon moi, it's not a phenomenon of the late autumn sun. It's just light reflected from the ceiling lights on the scenic train from Bergen to Oslo.
Despite pressing my camera against the window, the image was what I captured in a millisecond. The shadow on the nascent November 2016 snow confirms that the photographer was indeed part of a trainload of people vying for a ride of a lifetime.
The tour lives up to its promises -- truly scenic, one feels at one with the mountains (though formidable), lakes, rivers, and the seemingly eternal stretches of snowy land. Now, I'm abundantly satisfied that I've caught real snow scenes that seemed to have jumped out of the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe movie.
The thing that binds Adeline and me is our love for all things white and crystal-like. Along the scenic train ride, I got to know her because of my attempt to photograph the twigs and cacti jeweled by the melting ice. I invited myself into her space to capture these precious pictures (in the bottom rows). The sun, having done its day's work, cast a soft glow on all creation on the scenic route, almost announcing its retreat from its relentless pursuit earlier in the day. The iridescent snowscape is eternally etched in my not-so-great memory.