Garden Photography - Seasonal Living Through the Lens: October
Lately, in an online meditation course, I’ve been reflecting on how even when we’ve built a life we truly love, it’s still possible to feel disconnected from it. Some days I feel removed, distracted, and even exhausted by the very things I once dreamed of.
Picking up my camera helps me find my way back. Shooting snippets of beauty in our garden and daily life has become a quiet personal project, a way to slow down and see again. It’s time to reflect on the beauty, to shoot without a client brief, to wander, dream, and delight in the small things
This week I spent an afternoon photographing in the orchard and veggie garden. On the edge of the enclosure, the Snowball Tree (Viburnum) is putting on its full display, a cloud of white that always reminds me of a soft wedding dress. Inside, there’s a layering of seasons happening all at once: autumn brassicas still holding on, while spring’s snow peas and sweet peas curl upwards. Beetroot, silver beet, kale, and parsley fill the beds, and underneath, a tangle of flowers spills colour and scent across the paths.
My mum’s garden has a wild generosity to it. Feverfew grows beneath vines, pansies creep under peas, and self-seeded coriander and Queen Anne’s lace have made themselves at home. Together they form a living patchwork that feels abundant and full of life.
Further along, Mum sits with a cuppa, gazing out at the view with her new dog Molly, a seven-month-old Groodle with soft, curly hair that seems to blend into the clover growing thick and heavy this spring. Behind them, the Flame Tree glows red, alive with rainbow lorikeets feasting among its blossoms.
Out the front of the house, the garden shifts in tone. It’s more considered here, planted with tough, resilient species that can handle the wind and dry spells. Lavender blooms against the grey corrugated iron, and the old concrete trough we turned into a fish pond shimmers with reeds. It’s a nod to the rural past of this place and now part of the rhythm of our days. Molly, of course, loves to drink from it.
Last we we added on the trellis onto the norhern deck and planted grape vines, the idea being they will create shade for us in summer and light and wormth when they die back in winter. The vines have only been in a year and have grown well despite the terible soil.
That evening, we cooked on the barbecue, a steak from a friend’s farm, with asparagus, broccoli, potatoes, and greens picked fresh from the garden. As the sun dropped, I wandered back through, circling the garden one more time. The colours, textures, and scents seemed to deepen in the fading light, and I felt that familiar pull to pause and truly take it in.
This is what I love most about living with the seasons. Growing up in North Queensland, I didn’t experience this kind of ebb and flow. Now, one month into spring, I revel in the changes, blossoms emerging, bedcovers shifting, food transforming from one abundance to the next. It’s an anchor, a reminder that the cycles of nature are also the cycles within us.
These photos and videos are a small snapshot of where we are right now: early October 2025. A reminder to myself, and an offering to you, of the beauty in small shifts, the richness of layers, and the joy in taking a moment to pause and look closely.
These photos and videos are a small snapshot of where we are right now, early October 2025. A reminder to myself, and an offering to you, of the beauty in small shifts, the richness of layers, and the joy in taking a moment to pause and look closely.
It’s also the same approach I bring to my client work, noticing the details, the layers, and the atmosphere that tell a bigger story. If you’d love your business or creative project captured in this way, you can learn more about my [brand photography packages] or get in touch [here].
Honey xx
