I’m always drawn to the dark places that hunker down in the undergrowth. Show me a knot of meadow, a tangle of forest and I’ll be in there like a crazy spaniel traveling through the unseen trails, my eye pressed tight against my camera viewfinder.
Slowing down is the key for me, taking my time and easing myself into the soup of life that lives in the litter of leaf and lichen. Down there, on my knees I light up, the little boy comes home to play and I seek out the unseen, the mysterious and hidden.
When I’m in a push I don’t see these jewels. I pass them by, they hide. However if I should allow myself to become ‘of nature’ I find more in one square yard of countryside than I usually see in miles of walking.
Going slow shows me the stuff that matters, the spider who lies frozen in wait all day, the moth that shelters from the beaks of birds and the claws of dragonfly and the bee that ventures down into the spires that tower above the smaller worlds down there.
