“Look there’s a lonely tree.”
Lori, my jeep mate, was nodding her head towards an acacia in the distance. Standing by itself on a bleak overcast day in the Masai Mara, it did indeed look lonely. Lori put a term to a scene I was constantly drawn to but had not yet named, and it was perfect.
There’s something about miles and miles of open land and the gentle curve of an acacia that’s a magnet for my eye. Lori’s too. Hell tons of people. The black and white tree in the desert. The tree on a hill. The tree in a field. It’s a common theme in many photographs, and who were we not to play our part?
For the rest of the trip, Lori and I would point out great lonely trees and take a photograph. It was fun. A game. Giving them some attention made them seem less lonely somehow.
The photo above is one of my favorites: a serene lonely tree. It was nearing sunrise and the world was bathed in soft pastels—it begged for a photo.
I really like my lonely trees.