Bruce Willey > Arboreal Angst: fall leaves as they're falling

For the past two weeks (sometimes on climbing trips) I’ve succumbed to capturing one small but significant moment in the natural history of deciduous trees. That is, when a leaf leaves its potent attachment to the tree, strikes out on its own, and floats down to earth. <br> <br> Maybe it’s the economy, and my severe underemployment that has allowed for such seemingly useless time-sinks with leaves. Perhaps it’s this native Californian (myself) who is slowly, inexorably being swamped by the fibrous torture of these Georgia, Tennessee, and Alabaman woods, this Southern mélange of hickory, ash, maple, elm, hemlock, beech, oak, and pine that hide sun, vista, and all sense of direction. Or perhaps it is finally a Zen thing, my own life departing from summer to autumn (the new 40) and manifesting itself in the infinite metaphor of life, death, and propitious rebirth that falling leaves so obviously imply. <br> <br> I’ve set up some hard and fast rules that I hope bring honor and character to the profession of leaf photography. No mendacious use of Photoshop with a leaf spilled into a better background. No manually throwing the leaves in the air or the employment of a ladder with a beautiful rhinestone-clad assistant atop it. No strings or monofilament line attached. And no monkey business like a pet chimp shaking the leaves out of the tree for you despite what a pleasure it would be to take a walk in the woods hand in hand with a fellow ape. None of these methods have I deemed acceptable. Only the leaf leaving its nine-month mooring to the tree by natural means is allowed or even considered. Anything short of this is man-made trickery. <br> <br> Technical details aside, these pictures are either mistakes or strokes of luck. <br> Gravity, light, and leaf all must morph together in the great autumnal hand of god and the mother of all nature. Well, something like that, anywa