The story of ‘Awaken and Unfurl' By Simon James Davies

This collection of images were captured in early 2020, as the world succumbed to the grip of the Covid19 Pandemic. They form a photographic observation of a small corner of normality, following the changes in a group of mixed trees, located at the edge of natural woodland, near the village of Wickham, Southern Hampshire, England.

At a time when normality seemed to be slipping away, those fortunate enough to do so, sought comfort in the things which remained constant. Many of us turned to nature.

It was early March 2020, and in Hampshire we were experiencing a short spell of mild weather. The flower of the Bluebell had yet to appear, but their green shoots were more abundant than I’d ever seen. it was a promising sign that we might expect a wonderful show from this beautiful wildflower.

The general talk at the time was of the impending ‘Lock Down’. Over the preceding few months the virus had made it’s way from it’s source in China, spreading across several continents. In the U.K. there seemed to be a resolute feeling for the impending onslaught, and maybe, somewhere deep in the physique of the population, there was the hope that being an island, we might be protected from the worst. During this period of ‘Phony War’ I began to get to know an area of woodland which was close to home, little did I know that this woodland would become such a large part of my world over the coming months.

During my visits to the woods, I walked along an ancient ‘right of way’ which followed a line of mixed trees standing at the boundary between the wood and some agricultural fields. Local legend had made me aware of the presence of a long forgotten Roman Road, and after a little research, it became evident that the path I followed each day was actually the route of this ancient road. Just a few feet beneath my feet were the remains of the road, which records state was nearly 2000 years old. The trees grew at the edge of its route and the more I thought about them, the more I appreciated their connection with what lay beneath.

The old road was the main highway between the Roman coastal settlement of Noviomagus Regnorum (Chichester) and the important inland Roman settlement Venta Belgarum (Winchester). On it's way, the road passed through the village of Wickham, where a Roman Garrison guarded an important fording site which crossed the River Meon. Like so much of Roman history, these roads had a substantial impact on the way we live today, an impact which reached further than bricks, mortar, customs and design. How many of us originate from the many thousands of slaves, forced to dig the chalk and flint to lay the foundations for these roads, or how many of our ancestors walked the ramparts of the local Roman Garrison, or were foreign merchants, or dignitaries travelling from Europe, or further afield?

Spring was almost upon us, and the 'filigree-like' detail of the bare branches and twigs were quite a feature of these trees. They faced North, and due to the time of year, the Sun travelled low, and to the rear of them. I initially wondered if this would provide an element of back lighting, but after several visits, I found that the low sunlight never cleared the tops of a line of tall conifer, which stood behind the subject trees.

In the hope of gaining some inspiration, I visited the site just about every day for three weeks, at various times of the day, and in various weather conditions. One day, I witnessed the trees, bathed in an unusual light, it was mid morning and the angle of the sunlight was such that the light hit a bank of dense white cloud, it’s reflection showered the trees with a soft, diffused light, the effect was quite incredible. I considered setting up my camera equipment but realised that it would prove fruitless, there was too much movement in the branches due to the wind, I’d need to return when conditions were more suitable.

To capture these images, I decided to use a prime telephoto lens, which would enable me to be more selective about the composition, without having to ‘crop’ the image afterwards; I also felt that the ‘compressed’ perspective, which this type of lens provides, would be aesthetically pleasing. I needed to be patient and wait for the right conditions, when the wind would be light enough to steady the fine details, and the cloud cover dense enough to reflect the sunlight. The height of the sun would also be critical to allow the diffused light to bounce back from the clouds at the right angle onto the trees.

I visited the location around the same time, most days, for another three weeks, before the conditions eventually aligned. The wind was light, and each and every branch and twig were illuminated in a soft reflected light. As is often the case in Landscape Photography, the moment was fleeting, but I could see the elements beginning to coincide, so I was able to set up for the shot in good time.

As the following weeks passed, I watched as the trees began to awaken, their buds appeared, and their leaves started to unfurl. Again, I waited patiently in the hope of the same lighting conditions. Eventually, the conditions were right, and I was relieved to find the effect just as striking.

Simon James Davies July 2020