When we were in the mountains last October we had one hike that Dearest and Oldest son wanted to take, but Daughter and Youngest son wanted to skip (quite tired already). So I hung around the parking area for the trail head, and the younger two stayed in the car and read books. While I hung around I took my camera and searched the ground for these little compositions in the fallen acorns. All of these are not cropped and not arranged- they're just how I found, framed and shot them at the time.
The oak leaves in this part of the Blue Ridge Parkway were oddly full of holes. It seemed only to affect the white oak group - white oak and chestnut oak, in particular.
Looking at these more than six months later, I'm not sure why I liked them so much. And I have the strong feeling that these could be turned into paintings, but I would sharpen up the compositions and motion in each. It's some measure of where I've traveled internally in those six months. Then I got an itch from these as I saw them - now I have a feeling how I could scratch that itch if I chose.
And I have a feeling that another six months would find me somewhere else. While the differences probably seem subtle to others, and my work might seem pretty similar in style to observers, to me the changes are larger, feeling like some kind of drift in taste or in internal fashion.