Seasons are such a novel concept to me.
Growing up in a land of Hot, Extra Hot, Extremely Hot, and Unbearably Hot, the idea that a a spectrum of degrees from 0 to 100 (real gradually) could occur in the same location was unimaginable. Sure I had seen pictures of fall foliage and heard songs like White Christmas, but seeing was really believing when I set up shop in Cambridge for my first Northeastern fall two years ago.
I remember noticing the first leaves change color. I was walking to class and almost stepped on a treasure: a small, raindrop shaped leaf that was predominately brown, but budding red from its core. Naturally, I picked it up and put it in my phone case (temporarily replacing the Polaroid photo of Fairchild I normally keep in there). Once I made it safely home that day and the precious leaf had survived the voyage, I transferred it to the safety of being sandwiched in between pages of my idea journal - a location it lives in to this day.
(Images from artist @danikation)
Now, every fall, I make it a point to find that first leaf, radiating with disjointed color, begging to be cherished. This year, I took that singular hunt to the next level. I'm talking waking up early on a Friday morning to intentionally collect a tote bag full of foliage with my adventure buddy Lily. Together we collected a decent smattering of hues, from perky yellows to velvety reds, and some foundational greens for good measure.
With all of these vibrant shades radiating in my room, I couldn't help but draw parallels in their graduating tones to the collection of Pantone chips I oh so handily had stashed nearby. Lily and I matched each leaf to each Pantone chip, debating whether to match the leaves by their core color or their outer color, and settling for a combination of both.
The final product looked like a spilled package of Mike & Ikes as much as it recalled imagery like Spencer Finch's Where Does Red Begin and Where Does it End?
(Image courtesy of www.spencerfinch.com)
Fall, to me, is the most robust expression of nature's own color palette, and now I've captured it to enjoy - despite the current status of barren trees and winter looming.