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Chapter 8 — A Lunar Morning
Allaboutthatcentrethedeadfibresandseedsweremagnifiedanddistortedbythecurvatureoftheglass.Butwecouldseeenough!Oneafteranotheralldownthesunlitslopethesemiraculouslittlebrownbodiesburstandgapedapart,likeseed-pods,likethehusksoffruits;openedeagermouthsthatdrankintheheatandlightpouringinacascadefromthenewly-risensun.
Everymomentmoreoftheseseedcoatsruptured,andevenastheydidsotheswellingpioneersoverflowedtheirrent-distendedseed-cases,andpassedintothesecondstageofgrowth.Withasteadyassurance,aswiftdeliberation,theseamazingseedsthrustarootletdownwardtotheearthandaqueerlittlebundle-likebudintotheair.Inalittlewhilethewholeslopewasdottedwithminuteplantletsstandingatattentionintheblazeofthesun.
Theydidnotstandforlong.Thebundle-likebudsswelledandstrainedandopenedwithajerk,thrustingoutacoronetoflittlesharptips,spreadingawhorloftiny,spiky,brownishleaves,thatlengthenedrapidly,lengthenedvisiblyevenaswewatched.Themovementwasslowerthananyanimal’s,swifterthananyplant’sIhaveeverseenbefore.HowcanIsuggestittoyou—thewaythatgrowthwenton?Theleaftipsgrewsothattheymovedonwardevenwhilewelookedatthem.Thebrownseed-caseshrivelledandwasabsorbedwithanequalrapidity.Haveyoueveronacolddaytakenathermometerintoyourwarmhandandwatchedthelittlethreadofmercurycreepupthetube?Thesemoonplantsgrewlikethat.
