Quiet Doesn’t Mean Still
February has never been a show-off of a month for me. It’s the pause. The reset. The “right, let’s get ourselves together” stretch before everything properly kicks off again.
This year, though, it will forever be remembered as The Month of Rain.
Pebley Reservoir decided it fancied stretching its legs and wandered straight across the lane, which made getting in and out of the village feel like planning a military operation. Flooded roads, standing water everywhere, and mud that clung to boots like it had abandonment issues.
With the weather making outdoor photography more of a survival sport than a creative pursuit, I turned my attention indoors. The website finally got some proper focus. Long overdue tweaks, organising galleries, and quietly preparing for the busier months ahead. I made a realistic (and slightly ruthless) list of camera equipment to put up for sale — because let’s be honest, we all have that one lens we swear we’ll use again. The office also received attention. It now resembles the workspace of someone mildly competent and in control.
Of course, I couldn’t stay inside all month.
A visit to Yorkshire Wildlife Park was non-negotiable. There’s something grounding about watching animals get on with life regardless of the weather. They don’t care about flooded lanes — they just carry on.
Light and colour arrived with Rotherham Light Night, which felt like a direct challenge to February’s gloom. Illuminated buildings, glowing installations, that quiet buzz of people wandering with cameras — exactly the creative lift I needed.
And then came the mud in its more glamorous form at the Dansport Historic Rally. Classic cars, flying gravel, that split-second timing that makes rally photography such a rush. It may have been wet, but the atmosphere more than made up for it.
Mondays remained sacred in Nottingham with the djembe — steady rhythms, familiar faces, the kind of consistency that keeps everything balanced. Then I pushed it further with a Drumathon in Sheffield. Five hours of drumming over three days. My hands were… vocal about it. Let’s just say the phrase “no pain, no gain” felt very literal.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t headline-grabbing. But it was productive. Preparations made. Spaces cleared. Creative batteries recharged.
February might be quiet — but quiet doesn’t mean still.
