Curtain of Moss

I seem to have been on a beige, brown and grey kick for awhile now. So... on yet another snowy overcast day I thought I would bring you a breath of summer and a therapeutic blast of colour: the stunningly beautiful green of moss. For those of you have read my blog for awhile, you will know that the theme of being able (or not able) to see what is front of our own eyes recurs on a regular basis. How many times have I passed by something I have seen almost daily only to find that one day I notice something I had never “seen” before? Moss is one of those things.

How can you not be attracted to its jewel-like greens in all its varying shades? How can you not be drawn to the sheer tactile pleasure of it? Now I realize it is not really fair to pose this question when all the moss for miles around is covered in a foot or more of snow, and I don’t expect you run out right this minute if you haven’t... but have you ever stopped to really look at moss close-up? Author Robin Wall Kimmerer (who is also that rare combination: scientist and poet) has.

In her book, Gathering Moss: A Natural and Cultural History of Mosses, she puts it this way: “With sophisticated technology, we strive to see what is beyond us, but are often blind to the myriad sparking facets that lie so close at hand. We think we’re seeing when we’ve only scratched the surface. … Has the power of our devices led us to distrust our unaided eyes? Or have we become dismissive of what takes no technology but only time and patience to perceive? Attentiveness alone can rival the most powerful magnifying lens?”

If you take the time to really look at moss, you will find that what you perceived to be a clump of one type of moss actually turns out to be many different types of moss. “There are fronds like miniature ferns, wefts like ostrich plumes, and shining tufts like the silky hair of a baby…. Magnified twenty-fold, the surfaces of the leaves are beautifully sculpted. The light shining brightly through single cells illuminates their elegant shapes. Time can vanish in exploring these places, like wandering through an art gallery of unexpected forms and colors.”

And just as the patterns in a single leaf replicate the shape of the tree from which it grew, so too “the architecture of the surrounding forest is repeated in the form of the moss carpet, the fir forest and the moss forest mirroring each other.”

For those of you in the throes of winter, you’ll have to wait for some time before you come across a cushion of moss of any size, let alone one as lush as the one pictured here. This one, in the Gatineau Hills, is a living curtain, a cascade of undulating shades of green and brown breaking over a cliff’s edge and running down a rugged rock face. And it is spectacular.

When you next see moss, whether it’s a small cushion or a whole curtain, try to remember to take the time to stop and look. Really look.