As you walk in the forest, see if you can find a rock bigger than your head that does not have any lichen or moss on it.
Look at the fallen trees, and many of the upright trees, and count the different types of mosses and lichens they wear. Then consider what jobs these innocuous beings, normally beneath our notice, perform in the grand scheme of nature. (See the article “Lichens and Mosses” for a description of the dirtbuilding process they conduct.)
It can be fascinating to examine these little plants, which take many different forms. We most often think of lichens as pale green and crusty, but there are also species that have wavy, almost leaflike shapes. Most sugar maples wear a species of pale gray lichen that looks like part of the bark. Rock tripe is an edible species that resembles a collection of dark brown cups, usually attached to the sides of large boulders or cliffs. Although it doesn’t taste great and has to be boiled in several changes of water to leach out the harsh tannins, rock tripe has been eaten as a survival food.
Mosses, too, vary from short and fuzzy to long and feathery. A large patch of soft moss is a delight to discover in the woods and a pleasure to rest upon. When I am feeling harassed by life, sometimes I go to a particular damp boulder on a steep mountain ridge. This rock supports a two-inch-thick mat of brilliant green moss. I press my nose into the moss and smell the clean-dirt smell. The body of the plant is springy under my cheek, softer and sweeter than a rug. Once I have calmed down, mossy advice comes into my head. “I have been here for a thousand years. Your problems are the size of a molecule of water. Don’t worry so much about them. They will pass very soon. Rest here and imagine guarding this spot for a few centuries.” I do my paltry best to stand as still as the moss for a few minutes. Perspective, I find, is comforting.
