I’ve missed most of our fall season, which I’ve long avoided accepting as my favorite season, due to travel. It is my favorite, in my heart, but I dread the daily cold-winded reminder of winter’s inevitability. This is often accompanied with the gut twisting thought of battling large, trash laden, condensed city snow banks. And the fear of slipping and falling on black ice. Eventually.

I can’t remember falling on ice. Two possible reasons for this: First, I’ve been lucky and haven’t fallen, ever. This surely can’t be true. Second, I’ve wiped out any memory of falling publicly. This one seems more likely. It definitely didn’t happen last year– any year now, it’ll happen. I’m positive. Maybe this year.

I guess I’ll be fine with it if it happens. It does happen. To all people–falling is an equalizer.

The suspense is what kills me, really. When? When.

I digress. My photographer friend gave me a few lesson tidbits to refine my photographic composition. Though I received his advice after I had already taken most of the pictures.

Here are a few modest examples of me trying to capture fall’s grace:

This one (above) took some finesse. I almost fell off a tree branch for this.

This one is a photo of a photo my photographer friend was about to take with an actual old-timey camera. This image will one day be developed. On film. If we just jog our memories to a time when this was done regularly… Although, to be fair, this particular way (illustrated below) of making photographs was popular before my parents were conceived.