Seed Love

 

A few years ago, I became slightly obsessed with growing things from seed. I have not lost the obsession, but having moved house I have lost the wide, sunny windowsills on which to line up little cardboard pots and germinate. 

Growing delicate stuff outside is hard when you have a good old soggy west country winter to contend with, so although I have an outside space I am watching quite dead-looking containers at the moment, wondering if they will feel like waking up any time soon. And without those windowsills, I have nothing indoors to watch either. 

This is a problem! There's nothing like watching a fresh green shoot poking up at last out of black compost, just when you thought nothing was ever, ever going to happen, when you had almost forgotten that you planted anything at all. Those seeds are so tiny, like little weeny poppy seeds – how on earth could so much life come out of those? But it does.

In the absence of actual seeds I've dug up these shots from that busy seed year, and have explored giving them a new guise. The flavour of these harks towards other photographic projects I'm continuing to work on, so maybe that's where the seeds are growing this year instead.

Out of blackened, ashen earth, burned and razed to the ground, beauty comes. I'm sure someone wrote lyrically about that a while ago. Now who was that?

{Today's Soundtrack: Fanfarlo}