Silent Witness: The Fall of the Tree

It’s been a while since I wrote Silent Witness: The Tree That Nurtures, a reflection on slowing down, returning to analog photography, and letting a simple subject—a tree stump in our community park—become my teacher.

What began as a test subject for my Zeiss Ikon Ikonta 521/2 turned into much more: a story of resilience, decay, and renewal. More importantly, it became my way of relearning how to see. Stepping away from digital convenience and endless smartphone snaps, I rediscovered what happens when you pause, observe, and make each frame intentional.

Over several visits, I unintentionally documented the tree’s slow transformation. Fungi appeared after rain, textures deepened, and the spade leaning against it weathered alongside. For over a decade the stump stood quietly, marked by age yet still full of presence—both subject and teacher.

But time never stands still. One spring day, I returned to find it fallen. The once-silent witness now lay broken across the ground, its story shifting from endurance to transformation.

The Day of the Fall

I didn’t see it fall, but the scene told its own story: the splintered trunk, the jagged break, the familiar spade now half-buried under the weight of collapse. What once leaned gently against the stump had become an artifact left behind in the ruins.

There was a quiet sadness in that discovery—like meeting an old friend only to find them changed beyond recognition. Yet, as in nature, endings here carry seeds of renewal.

Two Cameras, Two Perspectives

This story now carries two signatures:

Zeiss Ikon Ikonta 521/2 (6×9) – with its Tessar lens, it documented the years of standing, nurturing, and slow decay.
Pentacon Six TL (6×6) – a new voice in my toolkit, it captured the fall, the aftermath, and the textures of collapse in square frames that draw attention differently.

The formats themselves echo the shift: the wide grandeur of 6×9 giving way to the intimate focus of 6×6. Together, they complete the narrative.

Decay as Renewal

Though fallen, the tree continues its work. Insects carve pathways into the wood. Fungi sprout after rain. Moss spreads where light and moisture meet. What seems like loss is actually continuity—a slow return of the tree to soil, feeding what comes next.

Even the spade, weathered and leaning differently now, became part of that cycle. Buried under debris for a while, it began to decay more quickly. And then, one day, it too was gone—perhaps taken by a passerby, perhaps given a new purpose elsewhere. Its silent companionship ended, leaving only memory and photographs to mark its presence.

And you might wonder why I keep returning to this same stump, this same fallen tree.
For me, it’s more than a subject — it is a reminder. Isn’t this also the story of life?
What I’ve been able to capture over time is not just a tree’s decline, but the cycle we all share: growth, change, loss, and renewal.

Reflections

The fall of this tree marks both an ending and a lesson. In standing, it nurtured; in falling, it still nurtures. My cameras bore witness, but the true story belongs to the earth that now claims it.

And perhaps that is the quiet message here: step away from your screens, sit with nature for a while, and let yourself notice. Not every photograph has to shout. Some whisper. Some remind you that slowing down, observing, and making one deliberate frame can say more than a thousand casual clicks.

I don’t photograph to document. I photograph to share how I see the world—through patience, through presence, and through the small details that reveal life’s larger cycles.

This chapter closes the story of the Silent Witness—but its legacy endures, in the forest and in these frames.

If you’d like to see how this story began, here’s the video from my earlier post:

Frames of the Fall

This gallery doesn’t need made-up titles. Each frame tells its own part of the story:
the tree standing tall with the spade leaning faithfully beside it,
the bark peeling away over time,
the splintered break after the fall,
the fungi and moss slowly taking over,
and finally, the stump reduced to its last remains.

Photographed with two classic cameras:

Zeiss Ikon Ikonta 521/2 (6×9) – Ilford HP5 Plus, Ilford XP Super 400 · handheld and with Velbon Tripod
Pentacon Six TL (6×6) – Ilford XP2 Super 400 · handheld and with Velbon tripod