Written by: Elijah Polance
It has been almost 150 years since naturalist John Muir penned the words: “And into the woods I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.” Muir’s statement, and those echoed by the transcendentalist writers who preceded and inspired him, resonate with me. They speak to the freeing power of embracing the outdoors, letting the burden of stress and responsibilities dissipate for a while. Outside walks, whether quick tours of the neighborhood with family, or 25-mile hikes in isolation, never fail to put me at ease.
But sometimes, the beauty and stillness of nature can act as a subtle, unintentional poison. It is easy to long for that freedom, so incongruous with the bustle of everyday life, making it feel more mundane. Contrarily, the aimlessness of walking can let your mind wander too far, giving too much time and space to think or not think at all, resulting in apathy. It can be better then, at times, to step outside with intent, a goal to achieve, to compromise any unintended effects of nature’s siren song.

For me, nature photography is one of the surest ways to maintain the pure, freeing relationship with the environment while providing a sense of direction. The hobby builds from the idea of capturing something seen but can become a means of creating artwork or storytelling. It works as a bridge between the alluring outdoors and the inevitable pains of day-to-day life.
Nature photography is incredibly broad, lending practitioners many ways to engage with the environment. Wildlife and landscape photography are self-explanatory and appealing, but other forms, like conservation photography, add unique depth with a sense of narrative that holds people accountable for their actions.
While professionals may sport thousands of dollars’ worth of gear and travel to extreme environments around the world, the hobby can be just as fulfilling casually. I have always liked taking pictures of interesting things, whether with toy cameras I got for Christmas, iPods, or an old Sony mirrorless my mom used to use. The quality was not amazing, but the act of documenting and remembering what I saw was joy enough.

In high school, I took a photography class, and I got lucky enough to photograph a red-veined darner dragonfly in my backyard while completing an introductory assignment. The encounter started my fixation with macro photography, which captures detailed, close-up images of small subjects. The abundance of insects, amphibians, flowers, and fungi and New England provide endless opportunities for the craft.
Now, when I need a walk to destress, but want to center myself with an objective, I take out my camera and scan for critters crawling among the grass, hidden beneath rocks, and perched upon leaves. Some ventures are fruitful, others full of missed opportunities, but they are liberating all the same. There is unmatched magic in perpetuating nature’s offspring in these images, especially with their generally short lifespans.

So, if you are ever outside and looking for something to do, I recommend whipping out a camera and finding something that interests you. You might be surprised by what you could find, even in your backyard.
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