Remnants of Storm clouds in London - Christine Phillips
Today I spent the day at the BMW DP Tour at Wentworth, and it’s fair to say we were treated to some hefty rain spells, scattered throughout like dramatic interludes.
At times, the sky would darken suddenly, turning a deep slate grey as towering thunderclouds rolled in with theatrical force. The atmosphere felt heavy, electric—nature’s own commentary on the tournament below.
By the time I got home, golden hour had arrived, casting everything in a warm, forgiving light. I sent my drone up to chase the remnants of those storm clouds that had drenched us all day. This one here was still spilling its raindrops—only now, they shimmered in a soft orange hue, kissed by the sunset.
The town in the foreground is Welling, quietly basking beneath the drama above.
Remnants of Storm clouds in London - Christine Phillips
Today I spent the day at the BMW DP Tour at Wentworth, and it’s fair to say we were treated to some hefty rain spells, scattered throughout like dramatic interludes.
At times, the sky would darken suddenly, turning a deep slate grey as towering thunderclouds rolled in with theatrical force. The atmosphere felt heavy, electric—nature’s own commentary on the tournament below.
By the time I got home, golden hour had arrived, casting everything in a warm, forgiving light. I sent my drone up to chase the remnants of those storm clouds that had drenched us all day. This one here was still spilling its raindrops—only now, they shimmered in a soft orange hue, kissed by the sunset.
The town in the foreground is Welling, quietly basking beneath the drama above.