Leftover from last season, a maple leaf rests on a patch of snow.
The winter has rendered it amber, left its mark in wear and tear. And yet, after a season of rain, snow, wind, and frosty temperatures, it has somehow retained its shape.
It is a symbol of survival.
I suppose this is what I look like, a lot of the time, a camera positioned in front of my face.
There was a broken piece of glass against an old shed the other day, and I had to capture it. I had intended to make a few compositions of the slivered shards and reflected light. When I stepped in front of it, it was myself that I saw. (Three times over!)
So I took a picture of me, instead.
They are updating the library at my children’s school, so they have held a sale to purge outdated books from their stacks.
My nine-year-old daughter purchased this book, I Can be a Photographer, because it made her think of me.
She is a sweetheart.
