One Tree

One tree and a thousand possibilities - My forever place.

Fog. That glorious, low-hanging fog that every woodland photographer secretly prays for the night before. It rolled in properly this morning, and with it came that particular mix of excitement and delight that only fog brings, the kind that makes you abandon your coffee mid-sip and start scrambling for boots.

Then comes the headless chicken camera dance. You know the one: half-dressed, gear flying into the bag in no particular order, muttering about lenses you can't find. I did plenty of that dance today, especially once the light caught up with the fog a little later in the morning and the whole wood seemed to switch on at once.

The tree above lives in what I call my forever place, a spot I keep coming back to, in every season, in every light. When the fog hit full, I felt genuinely lucky to make it over there in time, and I ended up spending an extended morning in the company of these wonderful trees.

This particular one is a favourite of mine, and yet it's given me more trouble than almost any other. I love it, but I've never quite managed a shot that carries the same feeling as standing there and seeing it with my own eyes. That gap between emotion and image, the equivalence problem, if you like, rarely closes. Usually the photograph just sits there, technically fine, emotionally flat.

This time, though, I think I got close. A touch more autumn colour in the canopy helped, but it was reaching for the longer focal length that really changed things. Shooting at 150mm and standing well back cut the sky out of the frame entirely, compressed the scene, and pushed the background into something softer and more decorative, almost painterly. Suddenly everything in the frame felt connected, part of the same breath, rather than a tree sitting in front of a backdrop.

I won't waffle on too much justifying the image.

I simply... love it.

Growing Up With an Oak

Above is an experimental moment, caught in very windy conditions — a little later in the season, but not quite full autumn yet. The wind had its own way with the branches that day, and rather than fight it, I let it become part of the shot.

But the photograph is really just an excuse to talk about the tree.

This tree, this small patch of ground, is my forever place. I watched this oak grow from when I was five or six years old, back when the area was still sparse and unremarkable. Every year I visited, I'd notice this little tree a bit more — and now it's not so little at all. In a strange way, I feel like we've grown together, this oak and I, over the better part of a lifetime.

It's an unassuming spot. Nothing special to look at, if you're just passing through. Dog walkers go by without a second glance. Most people don't notice the beauty here — the way the silver birch scatter themselves around the oak, the way the light moves through in the right conditions. It's easy to walk past.

I don't want this to read as talking the tree down. It's not a mighty oak, standing hundreds of years old, and it's not part of some sprawling, ancient temperate forest. But none of that matters. This tree gives me more joy, more often, than trees far grander than it.

Which is part of why I'm trying, right now, to get this small area protected. I have an uneasy feeling the new council will look at this patch of ground and see nothing but space to build on. So the search is on — to find out whether it already has any protection, and if not, how to secure it, so that this little pocket of woodland can keep growing. So other trees can take root here too, and become part of my forever place, the way this oak did.

If anyone reading this has experience with Tree Preservation Orders, local conservation groups, or has been through a similar fight to protect a small patch of woodland from development — I'd genuinely love to hear from you. Drop a comment below or get in touch directly. Every bit of knowledge helps, and it might make the difference between this place staying as it is, or disappearing under concrete.

With all that said — I'll be running workshops here, in this unique little place. It's a hard spot to shoot, but a rewarding one to learn in: ideal for understanding how to photograph woodland, and for pushing your own skills further. You'll spend the day with me, in a place I know like the back of my hand. If you are interested drop me a comment below or contact me for further information. Full workshop details will be coming soon.