The Photograph

The Photograph

After a walk through the woods at the end of the garden, the path leads out into an open area, a wide expanse of short, green grass spread across a gentle slope that falls from the horizon high on the right, down to the bushes and reeds that line the lake. The path continues, creeping along the edge of the vast, open space, as though drawn to the cosy, low growth alongside the water.

But depart the path and walk out into the open and you are suddenly in a very different world. The grass is soft underfoot and springy, not mown but nowhere overgrown, and the slope draws one’s eyes upward to the distant horizon so that one becomes immersed in the great emptiness of that place. Pine trees march along the horizon, all leaning to the right as though resisting the downward pull of the slope.

The place encourages a stillness within you, perhaps in its contrast to the closeness and secrecy of the forest. Yet there is a slight eeriness to its effect as the angled pines hint at a movement that is not there.

Out in the centre of the grassed area, there stands a lone tree. Remarkable only in its isolation, it is neither very tall nor outstanding in type. A young rowan tree perhaps, but it bears no berries.

I found myself walking down toward the lake so that I could view this single tree against the background of the pines along the horizon. When I turned to look up at the tree, I saw at once that it too was leaning. The odd thing was that its direction of lean was exactly in opposition to that of the pines. It was almost as if it asserted its character by refusing to go with the crowd.

The tree demanded a photograph to preserve this rebellious streak in so humble a specimen. I carried a camera, a simple box affair of the click-and-shoot variety, an afterthought since I rarely took photos in those days. There was no way the cheap, basic thing would capture the essence of that moment but I snapped a picture anyway.

That one use of the camera was enough to stir my departed passion for photography, and I took several more photographs in the course of the day. It may also have been a subconscious desire to use up the film so that I could get it developed and see how the tree photo came out.

In a few days, I collected the photos and hurried home to take a look at them. They were typical of my results from that camera, slightly out of focus and missing much of the detail that had made me take them in the first place. The tree photo was no exception.

But it was different. In spite of being far too small to give the impression of the vast space that surrounded it, the background trees somehow supplied a similar feeling. Perhaps it was that enigmatic lean to the right that threw the whole scene out of the ordinary and humdrum. And the little tree stood bravely in a duplicate isolation, unbending to the force that moved all the others and far from any support. It may even have been that slightly fuzzy effect of a lens that could never focus exactly that gave the picture its otherworldly feel.

Whatever the reason, I knew immediately that this photo was the best of the bunch and could stand shoulder to shoulder with the best that I had taken with the serious camera of my departed enthusiasm.


Word count: 601
For Vagrant Vignettes, July/August 2023
Prompt: None.