Holy flu, batman. Like, seriously. Last Thursday, I was strolling along the oceanfront with my Composition Class, slightly raspy, and by Thursday evening, halfway through an email I started feeling chills. Within the hour, email still unsent, I was in bed with a 103º fever.

Let's not do that again shall we? On Mother's Day, I dragged myself to lunch no matter how bad I felt (and you would too for chicken and waffles with red velvet waffles with maple cream) but halfway through, Neel developed a fever. We're so glad Cal is driving now! We could barely make it home. That's just how we roll around here.

But let's talk of better things, shall we? Not my ongoing raspy cough, or how much my chest hurts or how I've taken to using my kid's inhaler. How about we talk about clear blue skies. Wide, white sand. And the clear green waters of the sea? Oh, and my underwater camera.

That.

She squeals gleefully. We spend so much time in and around the water here that I have long wanted an underwater camera, or at least an underwater housing for my digital camera. Uh, have you seen how pricey those things are? I mean, I know we could GoPro it, but that just didn't appeal. Fits Cal's demo more than mine maybe.

And then I saw this article. And then I frantically/excitedly/gleefully started asking around. And then enter the Nikonos. Designed as a diving camera in the 1960s, and built like a tank, this guy can go fully underwater or shoot some sweet pictures on top of the waves. If I tell you it felt a little weird to walk into the Gulf of Mexico carrying my camera, will you believe me?

But oh, such sweet images. And on my first try! This little guy is a trick to master, so I'm looking forward to spending a lot of time together this summer. Toes in the sand.

All images shot on a Nikonos V with Fuji Superia 400.

As I've been learning my way around my camera(s) and different film stocks, our garden shed has become my go-to subject this past winter. Always there, always obliging, and surprisingly picturesque, I can count on this shed! The window by my desk looks right out on the shed, so I can watch the light over it all day. I've watched the snow fall against it. I've watched the rain darken it's sides. I've watched the sunlight illuminate that tiny patch of moss on the roof. Each evening, the lights come on at dusk to brighten our back yard.

Spring is coming, and those spindles of hydrangea branches have buds on them now. The landscape of my shed is changing. Stark lines soften and colors burst brighter. The climbing hydrangea is creeping higher along the roof, and that tiny patch of moss is slowly growing.

My film choices will change. My cameras may change. I'll learn new things as the seasons change and the colors change. But the shed? The shed stays.

under the sea (on film)

shed series on film {life}