It’s a trail I haven’t hiked in maybe 5 years. The last time I hiked it I didn’t find it very interesting. I’ve decided to hike it this morning for two reasons. I think the trees might make a good backdrop for some photos of my wife that I want to take and I had a plan for small series that I wanted to enter into a magazine.
I start climbing up the trail looking left and right waiting to get inspired, but nothing happens. I could turn left and get to a meadow that I wanted to check out, but fearing I’m making a mistake, I continue on. Finally there’s a tree with an interesting background that might work. I spend some time on it trying to get something but not being terribly excited I continue on.
Something else looks interesting and I try to make a photo of that. And, as I continue on, I stop worrying about my success or failure in my choice of this trail. And then the miraculous happens.
As I continue down the trail every tree I see is getting my attention and they all want to tell me something. Every tree and group of trees I see is telling me their stories. I look and listen and somehow intuitively choose which ones to tell to you.
I take my time walking up the trail listening as best I can and taking it all in. What a joy it is to spend this time with them photographing their stories.
I don’t think I’m talking about anthropomorphism. The trees don’t speak in sentences in a language I can translate to English. But I do believe that they are speaking with me and after having to listen to my own, and a host of other’s human stories, it’s a real pleasure to be here and just listen to them.