Today as I was preparing breakfast in front of the big kitchen window, a little fox walked out of the tall grass in the field. It looked around for a few seconds, and then it turned and ran around the corner of the house and out of sight. I grabbed my mobile and got a blurry phone pic.
Sometimes I dream of being a professional nature photographer. I imagine the long periods of silence and observation and patience, the long (and fancy!) lenses, the sudden bursts of – Now! – and the resulting photos the closest most people come to sharing a kind of intimacy with the magical, wild creatures of this Earth.
Romanticised, I know.
But even though I am not a professional nature photographer, and even though I don’t have the fancy gear, I still find much joy in photographing the nature of summer.
The big and the small – the sweeping vista of sky and see that opens up as I come round the bend, and the sea mirroring the sky in front of me as I prepare to perhaps, maybe, go swimming, one toe at the time.
The forest path of our usual walk, since a few years ago blocked by fallen trees that no one has cleared away. The boy is still small enough to go under some of them, while we adults climb over or go around. One of the fallen trees has become an ant path this year; that one we did not climb over.
The strawberries. I don’t even know what these are called in English – we call them markjordbær – ‘strawberries of the field’ – as opposed to the big hagejordbær (or just jordbær) – ‘strawberries of the garden’.
So that’s my summer so far, and only on mobile, because I forgot my memory card reader at home. And so it goes.
All the best from Jenny G.