Perhaps the date doesn't ring a bell to you, as it didn't to me. History was not exactly my favorite subject in school. But maybe the word Chernobyl brings back memories to you. I don't remember seeing many pictures about this nuclear accident. Recently, I found Elena Filatova's website, www.elenafilatova.com. Her pictures tell a story of a forgotten place, with a silence that is deafening.

On her motorcycle, she rides through the 'dead zone,' the area where Belarus, Russia and Ukraine intersect, north of Kiev. She uses a Geiger counter to measure the amount of radiation on her travels. She is safe as long as she stays on the asphalt roads, as it is organic matter that absorbs radiation. She chooses to ride through this area, with her camera, for the sake of sharing what she observes with the world. She was a child living in Kiev in 1986, and her father, a nuclear physicist, sent his family away from the area once the radiation levels began to rise significantly. Now, she shares her motorcycle rides through her photographs, bringing this topic to the forefront of my mind.

Radiation is the problem that resulted from the accident at Chernobyl. It takes hundreds of years for the radiation that enveloped the region to decay. Typical radiation naturally present in the center of European cities is around 20-50 micro-roentgen per hour.

In the first days after Chernobyl disaster, some places around the reactor were emitting 3,000-30,000 roentgens per hour. The Chernobyl explosion released 30 to 40 times as much radioactivity as the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bombs combined in 1945. The disaster happened because of poor design of the reactor (information known in 1979) and bad decisions made during a test. You can read more about the details of what happened on Elena's website, or the 1988 UNSCEAR Report.

Even though this was the worst nuclear accident in history, The Chernobyl Report, written from 2003-2005, states that 28 people died from the radiation. However, it is not clear from this report if the 28 people included any of the hundreds of emergency workers asked to respond to the disaster, or the brave helicopter pilots who flew over the reactor in order to contain the fire that burned for 10 days, exposing themselves to high doses of radiation. The IAEA (International Atomic Energy Agency) website states that 50 emergency workers died from radiation. I find it interesting that there is a lack of agreement about the human toll from this event. Varying estimates also exist on how many people will die from the radiation exposure in the future. Some conservative estimates place the death toll during the lifetime of those exposed to be 4,000-9,000 people. As it will probably take from 300 to 900 years for the contaminated region to be safe for habitation, who will explain to our children and grandchildren what really happened? We are fortunate that Elena, sharing her photographs of the region, records this event for eternity.

Even though there are varying accounts of the human toll from Chernobyl, Elena's photographs irrefutably show us the way the region appears 20 years after that fateful day. We must not forget what happened. The silence present in these pictures brings to my mind an intense anguish and desolation.

The region known as the 'dead zone' is mostly abandoned now. The remaining reactors at the Chernobyl plant were shut down in December, 2000. Since the Chernobyl accident over 330,000 people have been relocated away from the area. Elena's photographs show entire towns abandoned. Some areas are probably safe for habitation, but perhaps due to lingering fear of radiation, the sparse population of this region is aging and declining. Nature has started to erase mankind's mark on this part of the world. Wild animals have begun to inhabit the region, although many plants and animals were adversely affected by the radiation.

Elena's photograph of a family of wild boars.

Growing up, I believed that history was just a series of names and dates- dull and boring. However, I was so captivated by Elena's photographs, I couldn't help but find out more about what happened at Chernobyl. Perhaps my view of history is changing. The details of the effect of this disaster may not be clear or even fully apparent at this time, but the photographs from Elena's motorcycle rides will ensure that I will never forget the tragedy at Chernobyl on April 26, 1986.

Camera toss photograph by Ryan Gallagher, Singular Essentials-35

I admit it. I'm a bit of an adrenaline junkie. There was no mistaking that feeling as I let my camera fly out of my hands after depressing the shutter. It was, in short, a thrill. Some people are too chicken to try it. Instead of risking it all, I used my older Kodak LS743. I mean, I'm brave... but I'm not reckless.

My first set of tosses were inside, and not so interesting. I tried my backyard and got this self-portrait after only a few tosses. Perhaps it was luck, but it instantly got me hooked. I used the "fast exposure technique" and the timer setting to force the shutter to release while it was in the air. A clever wrist-twist on the throw and voila!

I had a bit of a panic on my tenth toss, however. I did catch the camera, but found it unresponsive, with the lens still out. "I broke it already!" I wailed, handing it to my observing husband, "And I didn't even drop it!!"

He calmly adjusted it and said, "Looks like the battery popped out- it's fine." Lucky me.

We put up Christmas lights on our house and I realized they would be perfect for a "time exposure" toss technique. Setting my camera to a 2-second exposure, depressing the shutter with my toss hand, and covering the lens with my other hand, I let it fly, outdoors, underneath a moonlit sky. Quite thrilling, actually.

You can see our porch light (the thick white stripe) and our Christmas lights, and in the second picture you can see our neighbor's garage light as a dashed line (lights may appear dashed, depending on the frequency of the power source). The third picture is a shaken, not tossed version of the same scene.

The idea of camera toss came to the masses from Ryan Gallagher, who is known as clickykbd in the flickr community. He maintains a discussion group on flickr and also a blog with how-to tips and suggestions for tossing your camera. I noticed that there are over 2400 members of this group (the majority of them non-tossing lurkers) and about 10,000 photos tagged with 'camera toss' on flickr.

Recently, Adobe licensed camera toss images from several flickrites for the graphics on their new products. I think this gives an undeniable legitimacy to this creative activity. To see some gorgeous camera toss examples check out this and these.

The other night I noticed a poor sap pulled over on the street near mine. Inspiration struck- I grabbed my camera and tossed. The flashing police lights made an interesting subject for camera toss! I wonder what the cop was thinking of the girl in the adjacent yard, hurling her camera into the air. Maybe he didn't notice me. Or maybe he went home and googled throwing cameras.

So if you are brave, or creative, or both, try it out. Be warned, however, bad things can happen to cameras when flying through the air... or rather, when they hit the ground. As with any aerial sport, read the warning label! By the way, Kodak assumes no liability, none at all, (seriously!) for any damages to cameras caused by engaging in throwing your camera around like this. Kodak cameras aren't designed to take this sort of abuse. Toss at your own risk! However you choose to use your camera, have fun.

I bet a lot of people don't think about where their food comes from. In our American culture of fast food, eating out, and fabulous grocery stores like Wegmans, we take for granted being able to eat strawberries in the middle of winter. But how did those strawberries get here?

Much of the food you eat travels a great distance to get into your mouth. Thousands of miles, on a truck, boat or plane, and often processed in tons of packaging to keep it fresh. Every mile costs money in gas (as we are all too aware right now), and creating packaging takes energy as well. Consider bottled water: "Manufacture and shipping of billions of bottles causes unnecessary energy and petroleum consumption, leads to landfilling or incineration of bottles, and can release environmental toxins." This is exactly why I choose to drink tap water instead.

What's a girl to do? Some people are becoming more conscious of their food choices and are selecting organic food. While the idea of organic is a good one, organic food tends to be more expensive, and in some cases (traveling from California to Rochester, for example) it carries an environmental cost as well. Eating locally grown food saves the environmental cost of transport and can be better for you because you're getting it fresher, sometimes the day it's harvested. Organic local food is probably the epitome of eating right. The Public Market in Rochester is a good resource for both locally grown food and non-local food. I always ask the vendor where their products are from, and I like to bring my own canvas bags to carry stuff home with me. Plus, I get the bonus of cheaper prices than the grocery stores.

It occurred to me, as I was researching this topic, that even if I spread the word to buy local veggies, it won't matter much to people who don't know how to cook a big pile of collard greens, an ugly buttercup squash, or leafy rainbow chard.

Chard happens to be my personal favorite leafy veggie and it is plentiful in Upstate NY, even this late in the season. Here are step-by-step instructions with pictures of how I cook it, and I've even included a healthier version of my friend's Dad's Boonyalatti recipe (like a calzone- although I think he made up the name!). Isn't the chard beautiful with its crinkly leaves and bright red stems?

My favorite places online to find recipes include Epicurious (Best for searching on a specific ingredient. Be sure to only use the recipes with at least a 3 fork rating and read the user comments- they are so helpful), cooking for engineers, the Culinary Institute, Cooks Illustrated (subscription), and Cooking Light (also good for searching).

The best way to learn to cook something new, however, is to just try it. So this Saturday, head to your public market, pick up some local veggies and give it a shot. Let me know how you like the chard. Mmmmmm, chard.

Over the past weekend friends of ours asked my husband to take both a family portrait and a nude baby portrait of their five-month old baby. We set up a studio with professional lights in our living room, and I had the job of photographer's assistant, making lots of funny faces and kitchy-kitchy coo noises to get the baby to laugh. When I was discussing this with another friend (who does not have a baby) she thought five months was "on the old side for taking naked baby pictures". How interesting to consider: how old is too old for naked baby pictures? I seem to recall seeing a couple of pictures of me in the bathtub, up until perhaps, two years old. Musing about it now, that seems completely fine to me.

There is something so innocent and beautiful about a nude baby sleeping on a parent's chest. Or a newborn baby cradled in a parent's arms. Online there are galleries with beautiful artistic photographs of naked babies. Even my favorite Newsweek author, Anna Quindlen, has a book, Naked Babies. Obviously people agree that it is both artistic and acceptable when a baby is very small to do nude photos. I also noted that all of the photos I saw (including the ones we took over the weekend) strategically positioned the baby to cover his private parts. Even if the baby doesn't care about being modest, obviously we, as a society, do care. At some point, however, even with the modesty, it isn't acceptable anymore. At what age is it no longer culturally acceptable? Perhaps some people believe it isn't acceptable at any age? Some cultures believe full nudity is acceptable at any age. I can think of pictures I've seen from tribes in South America and Africa, where people don't have the same perceptions of nude as we do. I wonder about why this is the case, and how different societies have evolved to have different perceptions.

I think the only catch with our photoshoot over the weekend was the fact that while naked, the baby took the opportunity to pee. I guess that is what babies do!

Acadia National Park, Maine: Jordan Pond and the Bubbles

What's the deal with lighthouses? I think they're boring. At one point in history they were very useful and considered by sailors to be life-saving devices. I can totally respect that. Now, however, with electric lights, radio signals, GPS and fancier technologies available to boaters, lighthouses have outlived their usefulness. In short: they bore me.

My husband and I just came back from a trip to Maine and we enjoyed the beautiful scenery, occasionally marred by a lighthouse. Here is an excellent example:

As is evident from the pictures above, the lighthouse is clearly the stinker in the frame. The rocks and the waves look delightful, but when a lighthouse pokes its head into the scene, the photo becomes a snoozer. I took an informal poll and found that about half of my friends agree that lighthouses are boring. I also discovered that some people think they are romantic. I even have a friend who collects miniature lighthouses and pictures of lighthouses.

I'm quite surprised that a structure near a shoreline with an oversized flashlight at the top of it is considered by some to be romantic. When I think of lighthouses, I hear foghorns in my head and see bright flashing lights blinding me. Not exactly what I'd call "romantic". Interestingly, the very first lighthouse, Pharos of Alexandria, (Egypt, 3^rd century BC) is considered to be one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. I'll admit lighthouses went up a notch in my book when I discovered this fact.

On our way back from Maine, we visited my friend Meg, and she told me to watch the movie Pete's Dragon because it evokes happy lighthouse thoughts for her. She mentioned something about painting the lighthouse with Nora. Is painting a lighthouse romantic?

My friend Brent said, "Lighthouses are so passé. Some people think they are interesting and attractive, but really, they've outlived their usefulness and now they simply clutter up the landscape."

In contrast, his wife, Amanda said, "I'm sort- of ambivalent to them, but in general, I don't think they're ugly." Not exactly a glowing endorsement.

Lighthouses exist today as tourist attractions, with the Bass Head Lighthouse in Maine (according to the sign I read there) "one of the most photographed spots in Maine". I'm not too sure about that particular assertion, but since I went there myself and observed all the people with cameras, I guess I can believe it. And since I took a photo of the lighthouse (if only to prove how boring it is) I suppose even I contributed to their tally of pictures. Here I am, looking bored:

Luckily, the rest of Maine is definitely not boring. So go check out Maine. But, my advice is: skip the lighthouses.

This is a picture (taken by my grandma) of when he won 'Lawn of the Month' late last year!

My grandparents live in Florida in the winter (because that's what grandparents do) and up until this year, spent their summers near Watkins Glen, NY. My grandpa turned 90 in November and so they decided driving from Florida to NY every year was too much, even though he still does all his own yard work, including mowing the lawn twice a week and occasionally dredging the canal they live on. Dredging is when Grandpa goes into the canal where the alligators live to pull up the encroaching weeds and other muck. One time, just a few years ago, he saw an alligator lounging in the sun near his dock on the canal. He marched over there with a shovel and bonked the gator on the head. The gator was so shocked that it retreated into the canal instead of eating my grandpa. Unfortunately, I don't have a photograph of the alligator concussion, and I made Grandpa promise to never hit an alligator on the head again. Ever.

My husband and I visited my grandparents in February, right after they had their driveway paved. My grandfather was so proud of his newly paved driveway and excited about the big pile of dirt that was left from the excavation. I asked him why he didn't have the driveway contractors take the dirt away and he said, "Because I can use it!" And he did. Every last bit of that dirt ended up in the low places in his yard. He moved every bit, by hand, with a shovel. I was amazed.

This summer I've been using Kodak Gallery for posting pictures and emailing the links to friends and family, but my grandparents don't have email. I decided to send them a big stack of prints from the gallery, from several albums, so that they can keep up with all our adventures. I was able to send pictures from several of my gallery albums, like this one of me sailing on Green Bay. Well, I guess I wasn't actually doing the sailing. Getting prints shipped to my grandparents from the gallery was easier for me than making a CD and taking it to a store to get them printed, or trying to coax our inkjet printer at home to print without streaks.

My mom recently told me that my grandma loves her big stack of prints, and at every opportunity shows her friends and neighbors. She enjoys explaining all of our antics in the pictures. Summer without my grandparents close by has been difficult for me this year, but I'm glad I'm able to share my pictures with them.