When I first stumbled on the beginnings of the stemonitis slime mold last June, I didn’t know what it was and thought they were insect eggs. A quick Google search showed me the error of my ways and I was incredibly disappointed to discover that, had I stayed around a bit longer, I would have seen the transformation from tiny yellow dots to chocolate brown tubes on a stalk - all within a short period of time. “Short” meaning around twelve hours.

Going back to the same spot in the middle of my woods the next evening, I was excited to find a new patch of tiny yellow dots developing, so I set up camp with my camera, tripod, extra battery, fully charged phone and a beach towel - ultimately none of which was particularly effective in scaring off bugs I didn’t even know existed up to that point. I began my evening around 8 PM and started taking photographs every couple of minutes. With no real knowledge of how to do a time lapse sequence, I was just winging it and ended up with several hundred photos over the course of the night. At 3 AM my second camera battery gave out, the stemonitis was nearing the end of its journey and I was done with the damp, the dark and the bugs - so I packed up and went home.

In my part of the world, stemonitis seems to develop beginning in the late afternoon/early evening and continues throughout the night. I am envious of those for whom it is a daylight process. Until this night, I did not know there were cockroaches with wings to fly. I wish I still didn’t know that. I sat in complete darkness except for the firing of the flash every so often and I’m pretty sure that just ended up being some sort of love signal to the flying cockroaches.

These pictures are the outcome of being passionate about slime molds and sitting in the middle of the woods in the dark to capture the transformation. I took the last picture the following morning. If I’m lucky enough to see slime molds this summer, I’ll be the one in a pop up tent that’s totally zipped up except around my camera lens.