During my walk today, I noticed a small scatter of flowers resting on the grass, likely shaken loose by the recent rain. We don’t have autumn here, but scenes like this make me imagine we do, not the fiery sweep of reds and golds people celebrate elsewhere, but a quieter version, soft shapes, wilted edges, and the hush that follows a storm.
I photographed them in black and white, as I always do. I know autumn is a season that lives best in color, yet my lens has found a home in monochrome. Choosing B&W means giving up the obvious, and looking for the subtle, texture in the petals, veins in the leaves, the way damp grass darkens and frames a fallen bloom. It’s less about the season’s palette and more about the story the light is telling.
Sticking to this theme has become part of my rhythm. It keeps me honest and consistent. I’ve carved a small niche for myself in these tones, and I want to keep walking that path. Black and white carries a nostalgic pull that I love, like a memory you can almost touch. It lets the mind fill in what the eyes can’t see.
So here are today’s frames, rain-tossed petals, simple and unhurried. They aren’t dramatic in the usual sense, but they remind me that beauty doesn’t need to shout. Sometimes it just lands at your feet after a storm, waits for a little light, and asks to be seen.
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”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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