I stepped into the backyard a while ago and paused beside our palm tree, where a vine has been quietly turning the trunk into its own little world. Up close, it feels like a miniature forest, coin-shaped leaves stacking and overlapping, tiny roots threading through crevices, shadows pooling between layers. It’s one of those scenes where nature takes over nature, not as a battle but as a balance. The palm offers structure, the vine returns texture and life. Together, they make the yard feel fuller, greener, more alive.
I photographed the details in black and white because monochrome lets the forms speak. Color can be a distraction with subjects like this, what drew me were the shapes and tones, the soft matte of the leaves against the rough bark, the fine lines of aerial roots, the way light slides across rounded edges. In editing, I nudged the highlights and deepened the blacks to bring out the contrast and the sense of depth. The result is a set of close studies that feel almost like topographic maps, each curve and crease standing out clearly.
Backyard walks like this give me a small sense of security and satisfaction. They remind me that I don’t need to go far to find something worth photographing, sometimes the best subjects are the ones growing quietly at home. And maybe that’s the lesson this vine keeps whispering, growth happens in layers, slowly, patiently, until one day you notice an entire landscape where there used to be only a trunk.
”To see in color is a delight for the eye, but to see in black and white is delight for the soul.”
~ Andri Cauldwell
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