There are certain times of year when photography seems to take care of itself.

Autumn arrives with mist, colour and woodland full of interesting things. Winter brings frost, bare trees and dramatic weather. Spring has fresh growth, waterfalls and that brief period where everything looks new again.

Then there’s July and August.

This year, July and August have mostly been hot. Very hot. The sort of hot that makes walking uphill with a camera bag seem like a deeply questionable life choice.

And photographically, I’ve struggled.

Most of the things I naturally point a camera at seem to disappear during the summer months. Waterfalls become slightly enthusiastic trickles. Woodland loses some of its structure beneath several million identical green leaves. The damp, mossy conditions that are perfect for close-up and macro photography become dry, dusty and distinctly uncooperative.

Everything is green.

Not interesting green. Just… green.

Lots and lots of green.

It’s probably beautiful if you’re a leaf.

For someone wandering around hoping for moody woodland, flowing water or tiny fungi hiding beneath a log, though, it can all feel a little uninspiring.

So instead of waiting for autumn to arrive, I’ve been trying to photograph things I wouldn’t normally photograph.

This has mainly involved going somewhere unfamiliar, walking around without much of a plan and hoping something eventually catches my attention.

Which is actually much harder than it sounds.

When you regularly photograph the same sort of subjects, you develop a way of seeing them. I know roughly what I’m looking for around waterfalls. I automatically notice certain shapes and layers in woodland. Put me somewhere damp with rocks, moss and running water and I’m quite happy disappearing for several hours.

Put me somewhere completely different and suddenly I seem to forget how cameras work.

I’ve found myself wandering around towns, industrial areas, unfamiliar landscapes and random bits of countryside trying to work out what exactly the photograph is supposed to be.

Sometimes there isn’t one.

Sometimes there probably is one, but I walk straight past it.

And sometimes I take the photograph anyway and discover later that there was, in fact, a very good reason I would normally have walked straight past it.

Still, it has been interesting.

Instead of looking for the obvious landscape, I’ve started paying more attention to shapes, shadows, buildings, small details and slightly odd things that normally wouldn’t get much consideration.

I’m not suddenly going to become a street photographer. The thought of deliberately pointing a camera at complete strangers still feels like an excellent way of becoming involved in a conversation I don’t want to have.

But photographing unfamiliar places has forced me to slow down and look a little harder.

There have also been a couple of nights where I’ve simply taken a tent, walked onto a hill and stayed there.

Not necessarily because I had a particular photograph in mind, but because sitting somewhere quiet with a camera nearby is still a pretty good way to spend an evening.

And perhaps that has been the main lesson from the last couple of months.

Not every photography trip needs to produce something spectacular.

Sometimes the camera is just an excuse to go somewhere.

To wander around somewhere unfamiliar.

To notice something you normally wouldn’t.

To try photographing something you’re not particularly good at photographing.

And occasionally to come home with a memory card containing 150 photographs that quietly confirm you should probably stick to waterfalls.

July and August might never be my favourite months for photography.

I’m already looking forward to cooler days, wetter weather, flowing rivers, mushrooms appearing in the woods and landscapes beginning to change colour again.

Basically, I’m looking forward to complaining about the rain.

But forcing myself to keep taking photographs during the photographic dead zone of summer hasn’t been entirely wasted.

I’ve photographed things I wouldn’t normally photograph.

I’ve explored places I probably wouldn’t otherwise have visited.

And I’ve been reminded that sometimes the important part isn’t coming home with the photograph you imagined.

It’s simply continuing to look.