Lake Sanitarium Macedon for Water H2O Thursday

 

A week ago, during our visit to the old Lake Sanatorium in Mount Macedon, the mountain seemed swallowed whole by fog. The air was cold and wet against the skin, carrying that earthy scent of damp bark, fallen leaves, and hidden fungi that always follows the forest after rain. Joel and I wandered quietly through the grounds, foraging for mushrooms among the moss and decaying timber, our footsteps softened by the thick carpet of pine needles beneath us.

The lake itself emerged only in fragments through the mist, as though reluctant to reveal its full shape. Built originally as part of the old tuberculosis sanatorium grounds, the small artificial lake sits tucked within towering conifers and mountain ash, its stillness lending the entire place an unsettling beauty. In fog, it becomes something almost cinematic — a scene from an old horror film where silence feels too complete and every shadow appears to be watching. The outlines of the trees dissolved into pale grey vapour, their reflections stretching across the dark water like ink bleeding into glass.

I could not resist stopping for a photograph. Ironically, I had only the macro lens mounted at the time, hardly the ideal choice for landscapes, yet perhaps it suited the mood better than anything else could have. The narrow field of view compressed the scene into layers of ghostly trunks and mirrored reflections, drawing attention to the delicate textures of mist upon water rather than the lake itself. Through the lens, the reflections appeared almost painterly — skeletal trees suspended upside down in a silver void, broken only by the faintest ripple across the surface.

For a moment the entire mountain felt suspended outside time: no wind, no birdsong, only fog drifting slowly between the trees while the lake held their reflections in perfect silence.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Lake Sanitarium Fungi at Macedon for Treasure Tuesday

 

It was that familiar time of year again when the damp woods began quietly summoning fungi from the earth. Joel and I wandered beneath the dripping canopy in search of the delicate pixie parasol, though the forest had other offerings in mind. Everywhere along the mossy floor, small kingdoms of fungi emerged from rotting timber and wet leaves — pale umbrellas, twisted shelves, tiny translucent domes — each asking to be photographed from some curious new angle close to the soil.

The deeper we walked, the more the woods seemed alive with quiet hunters of another kind. A few younger women appeared here and there among the trees, pretending coincidence but clearly tracing our path, watching where we paused and where our lenses pointed. In forests during fungi season, secrets travel quickly. Nobody speaks much; they simply follow the instinct that somewhere ahead, someone has found something worth discovering.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 macro 

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Fungus in Mount Macedon for Sunday Best

 

Another weekend has been marred by inclement weather. Joel and I sought our customary refuge at the Japanese bar, where the comfort of warm sake provided some consolation. Indeed, I intend to replenish my supply of sake regardless.

What follows is one from my collection of macro studies of fungi, taken upon the slopes of Mount Macedon. The mountain, with its cool and shaded gullies, provides an ideal environment for such delicate growths, whose minute forms reveal unexpected intricacies when examined closely.

For those who journey from the eastern fringes of Melbourne, the approach to Mount Macedon is a gentle transition from suburban streets into pastoral scenery. One may take the Eastern Freeway, continuing westward until it joins the CityLink or Tullamarine Freeway. From there, the Calder Freeway leads north-west through undulating countryside, with fields and woodlands unfolding in succession. After approximately an hour’s drive, the great massif of Mount Macedon rises ahead, its slopes cloaked in towering eucalypts and, in the cooler months, veiled in mist. The road winds upwards from Macedon township, affording ever-widening views of the surrounding plains until one arrives at the forested heights where nature’s more secret marvels—such as the fungi I photographed—lie hidden beneath the canopy.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Sunday Best

Fungus wonder in Lake Sanitarium for Sunday Best

 

After a fortnight of steady work free from on-call duties, I find that my sleep pattern is at last restored. I have also resumed the habit of reading the news and attending to various hobbies. Advancing age has made me realise that I can no longer endure the unrelenting burden of round-the-clock shifts.

This particular mushroom is frequently found at Lake Sanitarium, Mount Macedon. The gentle rear green bokeh it affords is a quality I hold in highest esteem—though, amusingly, it is the very aspect that Joel most dislikes.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Sunday Best

Mycena species found in Lake Sanitarium for Treasure Tuesday

 

A dense cluster of small, conical mushrooms was observed growing from moss-covered, decaying wood at Lake Sanitarium, Mount Macedon, Victoria, in a shaded, damp montane forest. The caps measured approximately 5–20 mm across, deep wine-brown in colour, finely striate, and hygrophanous. Stipes were slender, fibrous, and darker toward the base. The species is likely a wood-inhabiting Mycena, though precise identification would require spore print analysis and microscopic examination. It is saprotrophic and plays a role in wood decomposition. Consumption is not recommended.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 macro

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Mushroom at Lake Sanitarium in Mount Macedon for Sunday Best

 

Returning to the same spot each year yields the familiar sight of mushrooms—unchanged in form, yet ever transformed by the shifting light and atmosphere. It is a quiet pleasure to observe and capture their delicate textures through the lens of a macro camera, where each detail is magnified and newly appreciated. At Mount Macedon, where the air is almost perpetually damp and the mists linger among the trees, the forest floor remains a fertile haven for fungi. The endemic weather—cool, wet, and cloaked in a veil of fog—imbues the landscape with a subdued beauty, making each photographic outing a contemplative and rewarding pursuit.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Sunday Best

Of late, I have been viewing the series Naked and Afraid: Last One Standing, which piqued my curiosity regarding the distinction between the nyala and the impala, both of which are frequently mentioned or encountered in such wilderness settings. Compelled by this interest, I sought further understanding through study and inquiry.

The impala is a slender, graceful antelope renowned for its agility and speed, commonly found across the savannas and light woodlands of eastern and southern Africa. It bears a reddish-brown coat, with males distinguished by their lyre-shaped, ridged horns. Social in nature, impalas are often seen in large herds and rely on their swiftness to evade predators.

In contrast, the nyala is a more reclusive and strikingly patterned antelope, typically inhabiting dense bushlands and thickets, particularly in southern Africa. Males are darker in colour—deep brown to slate grey—with prominent vertical white stripes, spiral horns, and a shaggy appearance marked by a mane and white facial markings. Females and juveniles, by contrast, are lighter in hue and more modestly adorned.

Thus, while both species are antelopes of the African wild, they differ notably in habitat, temperament, and physical characteristics—the impala embodying fleet elegance in open terrain, and the nyala exuding quiet dignity in the shelter of the bush.

Mushroom in Lake Sanitarium Lake Mount Macedon for Sunday Best

 

A rather common species of woodland mushroom thrives amidst the shaded undergrowth of Lake Sanitarium, a locale long favoured by naturalists and artists alike. This secluded lake, steeped in quiet history, once served as a convalescent retreat in the early 20th century, earning its evocative name from the health-seekers who once found solace in its restorative air and waters. Today, it plays host to an altogether different form of contemplation: an annual photographic expedition undertaken by Joel and myself, dedicated to the fine art of macro imagery.

Armed with the Sony A7R V and the Sigma 105mm f/2.8 macro lens, we seek out the minute marvels of the forest floor—fungi, insects, textures—all rendered with a distinct tonal quality that has long distinguished the Sigma from its rivals. Although Sony is poised to release a new G Master macro lens, whose technical excellence is already anticipated by the photographic community, we are inclined to retain the Sigma. Its singular character in colour rendition—so vivid, yet subtle—offers a palette that cannot be so easily replicated, a lens not merely of function but of personality.

Linking Sunday Best

More from Lake Sanitarium Mount Macedon for Sunday Best

 

That is another charming pixie parasol from the verdant forests of Mount Macedon, Victoria, near the historic Lake Sanatorium. The image was produced through focus stacking, combining fifty exposures to achieve remarkable clarity and depth. I previously attempted to stack one hundred exposures; however, the resulting image was of inferior quality compared to that obtained with fifty shots.

The panorama displayed here depicts Joel and myself engaged in foraging amidst the dense and ancient woodlands of Mount Macedon. These forests, renowned for their towering mountain ash and cool temperate flora, surround the serene Lake Sanatorium—a place rich in both natural beauty and historical significance.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Sunday Best