Thanks again Joe and Tim, I truly appreciate the time and effort you have put into making this. Along with all the other articles, and tutorials, that I have gained some much from.

Marc

Just a couple of weeks ago, I was making images in a pine forest and couldn’t have been happier. There’s definitely something about being surrounded by trees that is relaxing and good for the soul. Perhaps it appeals to our primal need for security somehow?

Your piece was a joy to read and look at, Dav.

More and more I’ve been turning to trees, too – going bush, to use the vernacular of my new homeland. I spent my first long hot summer here in Victoria pining (!) for mist to make sun-blasted Yellow Box, Red Box, Stringy Barks and “Mountain Ash” less stark and bleached. And talk about cloudless blue sky! … too hot to sit in beer gardens where the beer is, er, an acquired taste ….

Ironically, as autumn and nearly winter has delivered more or less regular mist, I’ve set myself a challenge to make just as many satisfying woodland photographs with and without the murk. Use the conditions!

What you say about visiting, revisiting and spending time and seasons with your chosen woodland. In the unlikely event that I was asked what my “epiphanic” moment in photography was, it would be when I accepted and embraced “slow photography”. I’ve never had a medium format camera, film or otherwise. But, like many of us here, I suspect, I have what you might call an “LF MO”. (If you did call it that, I’d understand that you were using your frame of reference to make sense of my behaviour, and I’d superfluously insist that slowing down just makes all kinds of sense unless you are on a mission to fill-up your “free” flickr terabyte before you die.

Last week, I drove to an area of temperate rainforest just outside Marysville. This bit of bush has been regenerating since the horribly tragic, many human lives-taking 2009 Black Saturday fires. It was unsettling, overwhelming and exciting. All day, I walked and sat, and walked and one-eye-stared through my cutout viewfinder. I didn’t get my camera out. This wasn’t frustrating. It was enthralling and absorbing (even if I did find five engorged leeches on my legs when I got home). I knew I’d be back. Often.

With splendid serendipitous timing, your article has inspired me even more.