Rewild & Slow
Day 13: Sara Lovejoy
On Easter Sunday last year I woke up early, and lost for anything to do I decided to go for a walk in the woods behind my house.
That April morning the bluebells were in their last bloom, carpeting the woods with little shocks of blue throughout the vast space of the ancient woodland. I felt strangely overwhelmed. I couldn’t believe that I’d never been into these woods, despite living next to them for so long, but more than that I couldn’t believe that there was something so big right there that I hadn’t seen before, or even really knew it existed and I felt oddly sad that I’d missed out on this secret place for so long.
My walks became a regular thing, quietly helping me deal with a year that hadn’t gone to plan. The woods became something to rely upon; always there, always peaceful, always beautiful.
As the weeks went on I watched as the seasons changed from spring when new shoots rose up from the ground, to summer when the trees and bushes grew lush and the field of blue flax to the left of the woods shone so vividly it was as though the sea had suddenly appeared in Oxfordshire. Autumn arrived with its golden crunch, followed by winter, when I learnt that the best time to enjoy the woods is half an hour before the sun goes down, when the light passes through the trees on a slant and makes everything look spooky and mysterious.
On that first day in April I took my little camera with me. I am by no means a photographer, but I have always liked taking photos, so when I went to the woods I’d take my camera to practise playing with all the different settings.
I began to spend the week looking forward to my weekend walk in the woods with my camera, taking photos of leaves, bark, the branches and fields, and every week I got a little better and my love of light and shade grew, so much so that at Christmas I honestly believed that the dying afternoon light I spotted shining through the leaves of a small plant, might actually have appeared just for me to find it.
Despite spending the last few months visiting the woods regularly, I still have no idea what all the trees are called, or have any more knowledge about nature. I also still haven’t a clue how to really use my camera. And I don’t care. I know how the trees make me feel and how much joy it brings me to be able to photograph the little pockets of beauty that I find on my travels, and I think for now, that is enough.