I am sitting in my hotel room in Adelaide, stealing quiet moments between conference sessions to write posts for the coming week. There is something wonderfully liberating about doing so without the usual demands of work pressing at the edges of the day. For once, the clock is not my master. The hours unfold gently, leaving room for reflection, writing, and the simple pleasure of revisiting photographs.
The fungi I photographed this year seemed especially plump and luminous, as though the forest had infused them with extra life. Their caps glistened with moisture, their delicate forms almost translucent in the soft light. I painstakingly focus-stacked every image, and the results have rewarded the effort. The photographs possess a depth and clarity that I struggled to achieve in previous years. Looking through them now, I am reminded that photography, like any craft worth pursuing, is an endless journey of refinement. Even after all these years, I am still learning, still evolving.
One quest, however, has proven more elusive than photographing fungi. Over the past few days, I have wandered Adelaide in search of a truly satisfying latte or long black. The irony is that many of the cafés boasting near-perfect Google ratings have served coffee so overwhelmed by milk that the character of the beans seemed entirely lost. More than once, I have taken a hopeful sip only to feel mildly betrayed. It appears that finding an excellent cup of coffee may require as much patience and persistence as finding the perfect mushroom hidden on a forest floor.
Sony A7RV
Sigma 105mm f2.8
Linking Treasure Tuesday
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