Some photographs are keepers from the moment you open the shutter. They make your heart sing even when viewed on the camera's small display screen. Others are what I think of as slow burners, they don't fire you up immediately but smoulder away in the background, gradually building favour in your mind.
I have a fairly rigid routine after my photography - an initial but gentle cull and then leave the remaining images unseen for about two weeks. Then it is a harsh review in cold light with none of the connotation from the location, none of my senses working other than visual. An image that makes the cut is then printed, mounted and placed at various viewing points around the house (including the loo) for about four weeks. If it continues to bring new pleasures or intrigue after this stern test, then it is probably a keeper.
On a late November morning of low cloud and stop-start rain, my eye was drawn to an elegant confusion of branches and reflection alongside Derwent Water in the Lake District. Moisture in the air had soaked into moss-covered branches and colour saturation was intense. A brooding palette of decaying Autumnal colour encircled me as I waded into the primeval looking swamp.
This subject was a slow burner to start with but it has gradually stoked my mind and will be one of my favourites. I like the way a 200mm lens has made the twisting trunks appear to be marching menacingly towards the viewer.