Rusty winter things

I've never taken a photography class. In fact, the only art class I've taken of any sort was bookbinding, and though I absolutely loved it, I knew even then that I was way out of my league. I can't begin to talk about texture, balance, sight lines....not in any real way. But I'm trying to learn. I look at flickr, and The Pioneer Woman, a blogging icon, has some great stuff on self-taught photography on her photography page.

And I take pictures. Lots and lots. Weekends at the lake, I sometimes take 400 photos, and of those, maybe 20 are worth keeping. If I'm lucky.

Family is an obvious topic, and I have lots of pictures of V and her grandparents and her aunts, uncles, and cousins. But sometimes I want to wander outside and see what I can see.

My untrained eye is never sure where to start, but I like to look for things that aren't normally something I focus on (like vacant churches), and in the winter, I try to find texture among all the snow. I've tried photographing individual snowflakes, which is an admirable goal, I think, but ridiculously hard to execute. So when I was at the in-laws last weekend, I gravitated toward the old clothesline posts.

I know these photos are far from perfect: there's often distracting stuff in the background, and some of the angles are so wonky it's distracting.

But I like the rust, and all the textures and colors. I love the frayed rope, and the aging knots, and the light of the early afternoon.

More than anything, that's why I like taking pictures. Because I like them. I may not win any awards, or illustrate any semblance of expertise, but I still like what I've captured here.