There are Rules? A Photoplay Prompt

I wondered what those little lines were on the "P" section of the turny thing-a-ma-jig on my camera! I always freaked when I accidentally bumped into those boundaries.

But guess what? They are supposed to help in photo composition using something called the "rule of thirds." This is the kind of thing I learn by being a part of the High Calling Blogs network.

Am I the only one who had (note past tense) no clue?

I snap pictures I like to look at. That stir something inside. Sometimes (okay, often) they're off center, out of focus, blurry, imperfect, and crooked.

Like me.

There are rules?

I don't like breaking rules. But how can I break the rules when I don't even know the rules? How can I stay within boundaries when I don't know what or where they are?

Claire Burge has posted another PhotoPlay challenge over at HCB using the rule of thirds. Or breaking it.

I've seen some of the entries. They're good. Really good.

But I'm stepping out on a limb. Slipping in under the deadline wire. Taking courage to share. In order to learn. Sharing pictures (I mean photos) that seem to follow the rule--or break it. Taken before I knew there was a rule.

So these may not follow the rule. They may not even break the rule. Because I didn't know there was a rule. But I like them. Imperfect as they are.

As God loves me, imperfect as I am.

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Framed Memories - Part 3: The End

The storm struck. The barn collapsed.

In one sense, relief reigned.

Nobody hurt.

No more worries about who or what hid in the shadows.

No more energy burned in worry about the future. Like what to do with an old barn that faced inevitable demise in some form since restoration was not a viable option.

Nothing left to do but capture frames of memory.

Nothing left to do but to make a memory as we celebrated memories.

The wake lasted three days.

Captured here in a handful from dozens of frames.

The barn is dust.

The landscape forever changed.

And we treasure the memories.

As we look toward the future.

Letting go.

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

Matthew 6:19-21 (NIV)

Where is your treasure? What do you cling to?

Note: This post is in response to Claire Burge's PhotoPlay prompt "Frame It" at The High Calling Blogs.

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Framed Memories--Part 2

It appeared in Michigan's Heritage Barns. 

A symbol of Michigan history.

A symbol of family history.

Withstood many storms.

Witnessed many stories.

My husband played basketball on the drive floor.

He fed calves and bedded many a Bozo (his dad's pet name for each replacement bull.)

He climbed the ladder to feed the barn cats in the dark and once came nose-to-nose with a raccoon when he pushed it out of the way to reach the light.

He kept his horses in this pasture, and out back is where I met my Wendy that his parents bought for me shortly after our wedding.

His mother warned me to watch out for the bull. She managed to scare me well. Once when Dennis and I were in the pasture, Bozo took a step toward me, and I threw myself under the electric fence. I think Bozo laughed as hard as Dennis.

Dennis tells how his dad used a shipping crate to hold grain--about 8 feet long, 3 feet wide, and 3 feet tall. A crate that once held the casket of a soldier, home from the war. He thinks the remains might still be in the brush and promises to help me look for it.

Frames of family memories.

We could not maintain the barn. The huge metal doors at the top of the barn bridge had fallen off. The stone foundation was crumbling. We looked into restoration, but it was so expensive.

And so finally, the Great Hailstorm of 2008 took it down. 

The frame faltered. The foundation collapsed.

And I wept.

 

 And we stood on the rubble of history 

framed by our memories.

"But the Master, God, has something to say to this: Watch closely. I'm laying a foundation in Zion, a solid granite foundation, squared and true. And this is the meaning of the stone: a trusting life won't topple. I'll make justice the measuring stick and righteousness the plumb line for the building. A hailstorm will knock down the shantytown of lies, and a flash flood will wash out the rubble." ~Isaiah 28:16-17 (Message)

Is your foundation squared and true? Are you standing on rubble? Or buried underneath?

Note: This post is in response to Claire Burge's PhotoPlay prompt "Frame It" at The High Calling Blogs.

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Framed Memories - Part 1

Tossed by the storm.

Embraced through the storm.

Saved from the storm.

Framed by the storm.

This was the scene in our backyard following the "Great Hailstorm" of 2008 (July 2.) Two giant pines crushed our above-ground pool, 48 feet round, 6 feet deep in the middle. A place of laughter and cannonballs and music and solitude and starlit floats. Even an occasional skinny dip.

Memories dismantled.

Memories buried.

Memories framed in my mind.

" . . . and you were so glad when the storm died down . . . Psalm 107:30a (Message)

Note: This post is in response to Claire Burge's PhotoPlay prompt "Frame It" at High Calling Blogs.

What is your most memorable storm story? 

How have you been framed by the storms of life?

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King