You feel the cool, damp earth under your bare feet as he hoists you onto his back. The birches rise like pale columns, their new leaves a haze of mint green against a sky wrapped in smooth gray clouds. It's 10 a.m. and the light is seamlessāno harsh shadows, just a soft, even glow that makes your white midi dress look luminous against his navy shirt.
He takes a few wobbly steps, laughing, while you wrap your arms around his shoulders and rest your chin in the crook of his neck. Your photographer crouches low, angling upward to capture the dizzying height of the trunks and the tenderness in your tandem gaze. "Look toward that patch of ferns," she directs, and you both turn, cheek to cheek, breathing in the scent of damp moss and wild garlic.
Your arms start to ache after a minuteāpiggyback poses are harder than they look. You slide down, and he shakes out his arms, grinning. This is the rhythm of your forest engagement photos: playful, intimate, paused by honest breaks. You'd planned for this, wearing a dress that moves easily and skipping the heels for neutral flats now abandoned under a tree.
The grove is silent except for a distant woodpecker and the rustle of your dress. In this soft overcast light, everything feels cinematic. Your photographer suggests barefoot again, and as you tiptoe through the grass, he sweeps you up once moreāthis time with steadier footing. You laugh, your forehead against his, and the click of the shutter fades into the quiet hum of spring. Take the breaks when you need them; the best moments happen in the recovery.