A Fairyland of Mosses

In winter when the leaves have fallen and the world is misty and gray, it’s time to embrace the beauty of moss! If you’ve never really looked at moss, try walking through a forest in one of our local state parks or Land Trust preserves and pause to notice the colors and textures of different mosses. Where is it growing— in a tree, on the ground, on a boulder? Some species drape down from branches. Some coexist on a rock or fallen log. Gently touch them.

Hall of Mosses
This is the magnificent Hall of Mosses. In summer, tourists line up for hours to stroll along the iconic loop trail by the Hoh River in Olympic National Park. Winter is a better season for a quiet visit.

Kyoto
A few years ago, I visited my wonderful Japanese pen pal. Chisato led me through shrines, castles, and restaurants, where every extraordinary experience felt foreign to me. Then in the moss gardens, like this one at Kyoto’s Eikan-do Zenren-ji Temple, it felt like home. For centuries, professional Japanese gardeners have finessed the expertise to create moss environments with boulders, streams, and waterfalls that look so much like what we love here on the Olympic Peninsula. On Bainbridge Island, the Bloedel Reserve was inspired by Japanese moss gardens and Olympic Peninsula mosses. They claim to have “The largest public moss garden in the United States, 40-plus species of mosses and lichens transform two acres into an ancient-feeling fairyland.”

Madison Falls
The maidenhair ferns, maple trees, and moss-covered cliffs surrounding Madison Falls would be a star attraction in a Tokyo garden. We are lucky to be able to walk on a trail just five minutes from the parking lot by the Elwha River to sit in silence to savor these falls.

Ceratodon purpureus (Redshank)
One day a few of us were touring a friend’s Quilcene garden when we spotted a spectacular moss growing on a stone wall. Topping dewy thread-like stalks, we recognized the bright red capsules— sporophytes— that release reproductive spores. Although none of us naturalists recognized the moss, we were sure it must be rare. My field guide, Plants of the Pacific Northwest Coast, says it’s “the most-common moss in the world, known from the sidewalks of New York to the Antarctic,” Ceratodon purpureus (Redshank or Red Roof Moss).

Rhytidiadelphus triquetrus (Electrified Cat’s-tail Moss)
Do you have moss growing in your garden? Around here, most of us do. Robin Wall Kimmerer, a professor of bryology, tells funny stories in Gathering Moss about wealthy clients trying to remove moss where it wanted to grow, and plant it where it didn’t want to grow. Moss has a mind of its own! On a boulder in the shady part of our garden, Rhytidiadelphus triquetrus (Electrified Cat’s-tail Moss) has chosen to live. It has lanky, irregular branching with sporophytes emerging not from the pom-pom top, but from the side of its stem. Its silly common name adds to its originality, though there are plenty of mosses with unusual names, including Lover’s Moss and Goblin’s Gold.

Kindbergia oregana (Oregon Beaked Moss)
I’ve never encountered Lover’s Moss or Goblin’s Gold. But Oregon Beaked Moss is one you can easily find around here. It looks like small, soft velvet ferns, and the “beak” refers to the long tip of its sporophyte. Look around you at the conifers, ferns, and flowering plants. All are vascular plants, with systems to conduct water and food. Mosses are not vascular plants; along with liverworts, they are Bryophytes, and they lack true leaves, stems, and roots. Mosses stay close to the ground and thrive with moisture, and we have over 700 of the world’s 8,000-9,000 known species of moss here in the Pacific Northwest.

Hylocomium splendens (Step Moss)
Step Moss, also known as Stair Step Moss and Glittering Wood Moss, is another moss you can find in local sea level forests and at middle elevations in our mountains. If you gently pull on one moss, you’ll see the steps created by a few years of growth.

Plagiothecium undulatum (Wavy-leaved Cotton Moss)
When a friend showed me Wavy-leaved Cotton Moss under her microscope, I finally understood its name. Each little leaflet is, indeed, wavy. A microscope isn’t always needed to appreciate moss. However, once a group of us from the Land Trust’s Natural History Society gathered some mosses near Kala Point and took turns admiring their beauty using a dissecting microscope. We were also determined to find microscopic invertebrates living in the moss, most of all Tardigrades. Success! We immediately recognized a cute, plump critter with the nicknames of “water bear” and “moss piglet.” Tardigrades are famous for traveling in space, and unique in their ability to survive extremes of temperature. Some tardigrade species can live in temperatures as cold as -320° F and others as warm as 300° F. For more about tardigrades, the chapter called “A World in a Petri Dish” is part of Kelly Brenner’s delightful book, Nature Obscura.

Inspiration
My inspiration for this photo essay about mosses came from a recent Natural History Society outing on a Port Ludlow trail after a storm. High winds knocked masses of lush mosses and lichens to the forest floor, including this fluffy scarf held by John Goldwood.

Hummingbird nest
Besides forest scarves, moss has many other uses. Here’s a cozy Anna’s Hummingbird’s nest in a dark forest on Marrowstone Island, constructed with lichens and mosses. The nest of this hummingbird has the same thermal conductivity of polar bear fur. Finally, no photo, but a memory from years ago when I visited friends working in Norway. They drove us along the stunning fjord, Hardangerfjord, and then up the side of a mountain, above the timberline, to reach Hardangervitta, Europe’s largest alpine plateau. It’s a glorious expanse, filled with lichens, sphagnum moss, and true mosses (like those described here). We parked and hiked for a few days from “hut to hut,” actually rustic hotels. This was before waterproof hiking boots. Each hotel included the basics— a separate heated shed to dry out our soggy boots, feather beds, and dining room tables, each decorated not with a vase of flowers, but with a bowl of mosses. Since then, I’ve created my own PNW bowl of mosses for our dining table in winter. You may like to try it, too.