Being in the woods at night brings a certain kind of magic – and potent memories.

For two summers at camp, I watched huge campfires consume the space around us, as we sang to sweet guitar music. When darkness fell, the trees crept closer to us, light from the fire licking at their trunks, casting eerie shadows and colors all around us.

I had similar sensations camping with my husband in such special places as Acadia National Park in Maine and the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. We lit our own small campfires, as nighttime noises encroached and touched our tent.

Here we have a dense, layered vision that is part forest, part fire, part relic – a place where nature is alive with hidden energy, history and quiet intensity. I see faces with eyes and mouths. The scene is elemental and mythic, shadows seeming to come alive and even dance. It is heat-lit, glowing from within, with golden ochres and ember-oranges.