One of the things I’ve noticed over the years – I love photographing cold, naked trees. I admire their dignity, their stalwart stance in the face of all those frigid dark months, catching brief glimpses of a faded sun. They are so very beautiful. And somehow, a bit accusing, a bit threatening. They’re not happy at all.
This tree, towering from its little island in the middle of a little pond, keeps watch over a stretch of lang along the Clutha River. It doesn’t miss a thing.