I've always had an odd fascination with trees. I used to draw them all the time and when I was nine I realized that if I kept splitting each branch in my drawings over and over, they would start to look a bit like the live oaks which had so long been the sturdy playhouse for my imagination. Even now when my hands reach for the pencil they start to draw whirling and splitting branches in the same patterns they've been making for over a decade.
This weekend my family came to visit me and we got out of the city, traveling via train up the Hudson to where the leaves have started to change. We picked apples, wandered cemeteries, ate the last ice cream before winter, and all the time my camera was constantly at hand, ready to snap pictures of new trees.
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