There’s a spot in our community park I’ve photographed for over a year — a weathered tree stump with a spade leaning against it.
Not a grand vista. Not a spectacular subject.
Just… a quiet companion on my walks.
It began as a simple test subject for my Zeiss Ikon Ikonta 521/2.
But over time I kept returning — watching textures change, fungi appear after rain, the spade shifting with the seasons.
The stump became a teacher in slowing down, looking closer, and making every frame intentional.
And then one morning, it was gone.
Not removed — completely fallen.
A splintered break, the spade half-buried under the weight of the remains of the stump, the textures now speaking a different story.
It felt strangely like arriving to meet an old friend and finding only their absence.
Goodbye, my silent companion — it was great to know you.
I photographed the years of standing with the Ikonta (6×9), and the fall with the Pentacon Six TL (6×6).
Two cameras, two formats — two perspectives on the same life.
What looks like an ending is actually the start of renewal.
Moss spreads where sunlight softens the wood.
Insects carve pathways.
The tree that once stood nurturing now nurtures in another form.
These small stories — the quiet ones, the ones you only notice if you stop scrolling and actually look — are why I returned to analog.
Some photos whisper. Some teach you how to see again.
Thanks for reading — and for supporting this analog journey.
Your support truly means a lot.
And if you’d like to follow along, here’s my YouTube playlist:
From My Front Door