mosses 1

As the verdure of summer and the vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows of
fall fade into memory in January, my eye seeks out the merest color in a
drab, gray and white landscape. It is at this time of year that I am
especially drawn to mosses. Mosses on the whole continue to grow as
long as the temperatures remain above freezing and they have access to
water, suspending their growth during cold snaps or dry spells and
starting up again when temperatures moderate and the rains return.
Thus, many remain vibrant, rich shades of spring green even in the dead
of winter in contrast to the muted evergreen of the laurels, hollies, pines
and other larger plants that hold their leaves though the year. There are
a few places on earth where mosses really dominate the landscape, such
as the great peat bogs of the boreal lands, the temperate rainforests of
Northwestern North America, Chile, and New Zealand, the cloud forests
of tropical highlands, and the ground under firs and spruce in places like
Maine and Northern Ontario. Elsewhere, they play a more minor roll in
the canvas of life, seeking out niches that are too shady, wet, or exposed
for other plants to grow. Mosses lack the complicated vasculature of
most other plants; the xylem and phloem that shunts water,

nutrients, and the
products of
photosynthesis from root
to leaf and back again.
For a moss, water
transport is a slow and
local process. Without
plumbing, the H2O flows
from one cell to the next
by osmosis or by simple
capillary attraction just
as water is wicked up by
a kitchen sponge.
Sphagnum mosses are a
perfect example of this.
The dead parts of the
ever lengthening stems
wick water to the live tips
from below, allowing the
mat to rise up above the
water of ponds and bogs
in floating pillows.