I have always been fond of leaves; each one is unique to me. I like dried leaves in autumn and winter especially. I like the crinkles, curls, cracks and tears--the tiny imperfections. I like how leaves seem to age ever so slowly and gracefully until they finally fade away. Lately, leaves have become a prominent subject in my photographs. This is a good thing because they are so abundant around here. I have a habit of picking up ones that I notice when I am out and about. I do this often when I go running outside down the path by my house, often turning quickly and back tracking to retrieve that leaf that caught my eye. I am sure people might be wondering why I am jogging down the path with a handful of dried leaves--many of which do not appear to be particularly pretty or striking to them. I tend to keep them on a now mostly unused workbench in the garage (I used to use it for stained glass and jewelry making, which were former hobbies). I have quite a collection of dried leaves and weeds piling up there. My husband does not like it and, although, he does understand to an extent, he also finds my habit a bit strange. I figure it is okay as long as I am keeping them in the garage. For a little while, I had them in a shoe box, but I had to sacrifice the box for one of my daughter's school projects. (Keeping boxes around in the garage is another thing that my husband does not like and since I have no desire to take pictures of boxes, I let that one go).
I do not always 'stage' the leaves, but sometimes I do.
Sometimes I find them already posing for me. I especially like them with snowflakes.
. . . and with raindrops.
I like them on ice and on snow.
Sometimes I find interesting ones on the garage floor.
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