There is something special about light through trees on water. Sometimes you’re glimpsing the water through the trees, Sometimes you’re by the water and the light is coming through the trees. Sometimes you’re walking at dusk, sometimes at midday, or through the stillness of a summer afternoon, or in the early morning with dull light or bright light or soft and misty light. Sometimes the water has vapour rising. Sometimes there are shadows on the water. Sometimes the water has a carpet of green algae, sometimes it’s dotted with lily pads which lift and wave or dip or merely float, and sometimes they have bright yellow buds of lily flowers. Sometimes there is just a flash of water as you pass the trees, a glint. Sometimes there are strange shapes of things beneath the surface. Once there was the head of a statue standing above the surface, or was that a dream, or was it a stump of a concrete post which I imagined to be the head of a statue?
We walked through wetlands, now managed – not man-aged, but still there was magic, still there was light through trees on water.