Having spent all my life gathering leaves, cones, and seeds wherever I went, I was painfully aware that I had been garnering a reputation as a crazy plant lady. My miraculous objets trouvé would be retrieved discreetly, then stuffed into the corners of anywhere I could hide them. This usually meant carefully wrapping them in handkerchiefs or inside a delicate lambswool glove, not only so I could surreptitiously sneak yet another specimen past my bemused family (who do not share my curiosity of all things verdant), but also to protect the silky linings of various handbags and pockets, and the surfaces of journals and sketchbooks therein.