Remember winter?

I’m a little behind in processing film–I’ve got a Holga black & white to toss in the toxins tonight, four miscellaneous rolls (I think some from May Day…) that have gone off to the developer, a few other 35mm rolls floating around (including some early morning pictures from this weekend in the woods) and unfinished rolls in the Holga, Argus, and Nomad. Which leaves me scrounging for pictures, like this one of Peter on the last snowy day in March when we went sledding at Longfellow Park.

Our trip to the woods was a bit of a bust. The first night it was bug city; not wimpy little gnats and mosquitoes, mind you–these were flies that would make small birds nervous. The lake and playground were a two mile hike through forest and marsh (across a portage boardwalk–I hope those shots come out…), after which the rest of the camping party demanded that I run back to the site and get the car. Which I did–took me just 30 minutes, with a couple of photo-op stops on the way.

Though it rained a bit on Friday night, we stayed dry, and it was nice to lie in the tent reading ghost stories by flashlight while everyone slept and the rain pattered on the roof. I love reading Victorian ghost stories–the purpler the better–when camping, having discovered M.R. James by firelight at Moose Lake some years back.

Saturday started off nice enough–we did a little canoing, and I think I got some Holga shots of a pair of loons–but when we stopped for another playground break it started to rain. And rain. And rain. We played Old Maid and Go Fish, pondered the state of the runoff ditches, and waited for the rain to stop. It did not.

Then when Jack woke up from a nap, we were greeted by a little face that looked more like the Elephant Man than a preschooler. His eye was swollen almost shut, and his forehead was bulging. He didn’t seem bothered, but we didn’t think we should stay in the woods with him in this deformed state. Peter wasn’t impressed with our stamina.

So we spent Father’s Day at urgent care, while the doctor tried to figure out what was wrong with the boy–he looked like he was suffering from orbital cellulitis, but he didn’t act it; he acted like Jack–goofy and charming and unbothered by the swollen head. He was, though, greatly bothered by the two shots of antibiotics and the two pokes into his arms for blood. Now a day into antibiotics and antihistamine, Jack’s looking a little more like himself while continuing to be a little charmer. Kids are incredibly resilient.