I love moss, my daughters know this well. Il Giornale Nuovo posted some photos of mossy trunks of which he writes:

Unlike the woods around Aickman’s Kurhus, these were clearly seldom traversed, being crossed here and there by old, low stone walls, by felled, mossy trunks, or blocked with thickets. Even so, it wasn’t hard for me to feel a faint something of that transcendence he hints at, as I stopped to admire a sunlit clearing after squeezing through mushroomy, spiderwebbed undergrowth.

I also love ferns. When I was reading Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard a couple of weeks ago I learned that if you burn the fronds of ferns and dissolve its ashes in water and let that water evaporate, you get a pattern of ferns at the bottom of the glass. I picked some ferns three weeks ago and burnt them two weeks ago. The water is evaporating but it is still too early to say whether the experiment will succeed.

To round this post off, an illustration of mosses by Ernst Haeckel:

Muscinae from Ernst Haeckel’s Kunstformen der Natur (Artforms of Nature) of 1904.