Edge of a wood.

I've been photographing this same view (with slightly differing content) for the past 5 years. This group of trees (always on the right of the images) is the edge, or boundary of a larger area of woodland. I'm not too interested in the larger woodland - it's mainly conifer trees, and man made, but this little group of Silver Birch is at an apex. On an outside corner, it faces into the wind most of the year, and gets bad weather head on, and consequently there's a good deal of surviving going on with these hardy trees. I'm not entirely sure - after 5 years and many photographs - what it is exactly that keeps me returning to this same view. I'm not trying to explain or illustrate anything. There's nothing conceptual going on, yet I keep returning to a desire to locate and reveal a sense of place in many of the photographs I take. Also, I'm convinced that within this view there are at least a couple of the features that resonate with me, perhaps a little more than they should. I think this can be a common feeling, a bit like deja vu, - recognising in something a greater meaning and significance beyond it's own existence, something that speaks to a part of us that doesn't often get spoken to, perhaps (without sounding too cliché) a part of our senses, the past, the spirit, maybe a dream. Who knows.