There’s a earthy smell in my basement and it isn’t from the cat. I’m starting nearly forty kinds of seeds for a new book project and the warm, moist fragrance arises from trays of seedlings perched on rubber heat mats. Feeling the pull of this forced summer, the vegetables, herbs and annual seeds are swelling and stirring into green sprouts that reach up toward the false fluorescent sun. I haven’t done this in years and it’s lots more fun than I expected.
Before planting, the seeds were subjected to a closeup lens to reveal their rich patterns, colors and geometry. These images require long exposures and a solid camera mount to avoid camera shake — greatly magnified at this level. The rig is secure but perched on wooden floors which vibrate madly when the dogs as much as scratch themselves. So I wait for their nap time to slowly push the tiny gems into interesting pools and piles. But then the mailman arrives and all hell breaks loose in both the macro and the micro world.