The Lonely Tree

The concept of the lonely tree is nearly ubiquitous in photography, to the point that it is sometimes considered a cliche. You've seen the images here and on other photographic websites; the single tree on a sloping hillside, or framed against a stormy sky at dawn or dusk, evoking loneliness, solitude, sadness, and other similar emotional states.

The image of the single tree can also be a study in detail, texture, and composition, as well as a documentation of the life of a particular tree. The great Michael Kenna most eloquently demonstrated this approach in his series of photos of an old tree on the banks of Kussharo Lake in Hokkaido, Japan. Over the years, Michael made multiple trips to Hokkaido to photograph the tree until it finally collapsed in 2013. He frequently referred to it as "his tree", and assigned it anthropomorphic qualities when describing his "relationship” with the tree.

Michael's approach to his Hokkaido tree has inspired me to repeatedly photograph a handful of my favorite oak trees in the woodlands near our home. I'm always delighted to find a new and unique photograph waiting to be captured when I go back to visit my old friends. Here are two images of one of those old friends taken over 10 years apart (2015 and 2026).

Chasing Likes

Landscape photography often involves chasing grand vistas, dramatic light, and exotic locations. While these images can be genuinely arresting and are always crowd favorites, the appetite for them can become a trap in itself. When I have that feeling, I try to look for interesting compositions within mundane scenes. This photo of what is basically a puddle (technically a wetland) would have been easy to just walk past. But by looking carefully, I was able to find a composition that tells a small story where none was obvious, while raising questions about what lies beyond the frame. I find looking for these compositions to be a creative challenge and a potent antidote to the pull of repeating the same clichéd images over and over.

Forgiveness

Hydrangea II

“The hydrangea does not refuse the rain; it deepens in color.
Perhaps forgiveness is not the erasing of a wound,
but the quiet changing that happens while carrying it."

—Anonymous

A Sense of Connection

The Old Oak at Pleasant Grove

Our best research suggests that plants and trees may be conscious on some level. I’ve been returning to this same spot to photograph this old oak for over ten years now, and I can’t help wondering if it recognizes me in some way—not as I recognize it, but in its own quieter language. It’s a comforting thought. To me, there’s certainly a sense of connection here, like greeting an old friend.

Among the Trees

Coastal Live Oak on Dry Creek

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”

—Mary Oliver, When I am Among the Trees