Spring is always full of surprises, I mean, how many people expected April to be oh so very wet? One thing that always seems to surprise me is how far into spring we get before trees come into their own. I often think of spring happening quickly, but it doesn’t. It comes in clearly defined stages (snowdrops then primroses then daffodils etc.); steadily at first before building up to a mad rush in May. Why the rush? Well, that’s typically when fresh and almost luminous leaves really begin to burst forth, and greedily steal light from anything growing below them.
At this point my inner tree hugger, which has patiently lain dormant through the depths of winter, bursts free. Add a touch of nice light and I’m high as a kite and at risk of an endorphin overdose.
The old compositional adage of ‘keep it simple’ has stood the test of time and is well worth remembering, but doesn’t need to be slavishly followed. When it comes to woodlands I often go for the exact opposite, I try to fill the frame with detail. I love scrutinising the infinite patterns and picking out tiny but fascinating elements. I get as much pleasure exploring these subjects now as I did when using a kaleidoscope as a child. But that’s just me.