12 North - Azalea Bloom

I'd been tracking the azalea bloom timing, knowing that for maybe two weeks each spring, the course would explode with color before the flowers faded. I arrived well before sunrise, and the fog was thick—so thick I couldn't see the far end of the fairway. But as the sun began to rise, something magical happened. The fog stayed low while the light broke through behind the trees, creating visible rays that cut through the mist.

The azaleas in the foreground were at absolute peak—masses of vivid magenta blooms covering the bushes completely. The color was so intense it almost didn't look real, that particular shade of purple-pink that azaleas achieve for such a brief window each year. The fog softened everything beyond, creating layers of diminishing visibility—the trees closest showing detail, those farther back becoming silhouettes, the distant fairway barely suggested through the mist.

The light coming through the fog created those god rays—visible shafts breaking through the tree line and illuminating patches of mist. The color palette was remarkable—the vivid magenta azaleas in sharp focus, the green of the turf still showing, and all of that set against the soft peach and blue tones of the foggy sunrise sky.

I worked through multiple exposures, knowing this combination of peak bloom, thick fog, and dramatic sunrise light wouldn't repeat. The fog was already beginning to thin as the sun rose and temperature climbed. What I wanted to capture was this convergence—spring bloom at peak, atmospheric fog creating mystery and depth, and sunrise light breaking through to illuminate it all in a way that felt almost otherworldly.