What lasts of a springtime hailstorm

The street was still echoing with the last low rumbles of thunder, and people had not yet come out of their doorways. The hailstones had gathered along the edge of the pavement, forming an accidental border where road meets kerb. They hadn’t yet begun to melt, and their translucency caught the ambient light in a way that made them seem brighter than the grey afternoon deserved.

What interested me first was the contrast in scale and material—hard pellets of ice scattered among leaves that had been torn down in the wind. The leaves are not decorative; they are casualties of the weather, sudden and unplanned. Their colour breaks the monochrome texture of asphalt and ice. I didn’t arrange anything. I simply crouched and framed what was already there.

Technically, the photograph is straightforward. Natural light, soft and diffused, meant no harsh shadows and no need for compensation. The exposure was adjusted to hold detail in the ice, preventing it from becoming a white smear. The surface of the road provides texture: rough aggregate, faint traces of paint, small fragments of debris. These subtle elements carry as much visual weight as the hailstones themselves.

The composition uses the kerb as a boundary line. The image leads the eye from the foreground toward the top of the frame, following the trail of ice. It’s a simple movement, quiet and almost incidental, but consistent with the nature of the scene. There is no narrative arc here—only aftermath.