Leaf-picking in a rainstorm

My original plan yesterday was to go to the North Country and do some autumn photography.  But by the time I made it past the traffic jam along the I-87 Twin Bridges, the storm clouds charged through the skies.  Great, I thought.  If the storm clouds hold out, and I don’t get rain, I can get some stunning shots of the light green trees against the angry cloudy sky.

Yeah, that lasted until I reached Exit 13N on the Northway.  Then the skies opened and the rain came crashing down.

Rats and double rats.

Okay, I’m up here… and I don’t want to take my cameras out in this bad weather.  So I kept driving.  Driving.  Driving.

And eventually, I could drive no more.  After taking a couple of side roads, I came across a small, deserted, forested area.  The weather hadn’t improved.  I was up here, and the skies were pouring rain upon me.

Argh.

All right, might as well park here at this wooded area.

The rains continued.

I got out of the car and started walking along a wet pathway into the woods.  Nobody here but me and whatever woodland creatures decided to brave the storm.

The rain is gushing around me.  The cool droplets land on my face and my neck and my shoulders.  If nothing else, I’m at peace.

Oh look.  A yellow leaf on the ground.  I pick it up.  The leaf is soaked with mud and raindroplets, but it’s a pretty yellow leaf – no mold spots, no rips.

And look, here’s a pretty green-yellow-brown leaf.  Maybe I’ll snag that one, as well.

Before long, the trip for photography turned into a trip of leaf-picking.  I walked up and down the trail, looking for any striking or colorful foliage.  The woods hadn’t changed into the fiery red-yellow-brown-orange “leaf peeping” colors, but there were still some leaves that had some color pattens to them.  I grabbed about ten different leaves from the ground – along with a couple of acorns – and placed the wet flora in Cardachrome.

The rains continued.  The smell of water and forest brought back some memories for me.  Memories of my childhood in the North Country.  Some of the memories were pleasant; others were dark.  I stuck to my 49th resolution – to not let the pains of my past put chains on my future.  I remembered those moments for what they were.  And I found some more leaves.  I picked up three of them.  One of them was damaged and had brown spots.  I tossed it back on the ground.  I kept the other two leaves.

I then returned to the trail.  To my left – a babbling brook.  To my right – a grove of different trees – maybe some maple and oak, I know there was some birch.  There’s a good possibility that if I come back here in a few weeks… when it’s dryer and the sunlight is pouring through the branches…

Yeah.  I could get some seriously powerful outdoor shots from this location.

This location… I had to remember where I was.  This was way off my normal North Country travel area.  If I don’t remember this location, I may never find it again.  It could be the equivalent of Brigadoon.

Thankfully, my GPS was still in the car; I simply had it take a latitude-and-longitude snapshot of my current location.  Then I saved it as “North Country photo location.”  Great.

These leaves are sopping wet.  So on the way home, I stopped at a local eatery and purchased some food – and, in addition, I picked up a couple of Pennysaver newspapers.

I returned to Cardachrome and placed each wet leaf between the folds of the newspapers.  Then, when I got home, I placed the newspapers on a flat surface, and put some heavy books on everything.

And this morning, I checked the leaves.  They were still a little damp, but they were flat – no longer wrinkled and soppy.  I scanned one of the leaves into the computer, so that I could add it to today’s blog post.

This gives me an idea.  I’m going to go back to this locale throughout the fall season, and gather as many leaves as I can during “leaf-peeping” season.

Because I think that if I get at least ten to fifteen really spectacular leaves… and if I preserve them properly…

I might have something for a future art project.  Maybe for a Dream Window.

Who knows?

All I know is that what was once a photographic washout… may have turned into something even better than I imagined.