In the Western world, moss is considered unremarkable, boring, almost a weed, something to mar a perfect green lawn, something growing through cracks in the pavement, dried up and looking awful during the summer … a lowly life form, not worth looking at. But that’s our cultural baggage.
Moss occupies an important niche in nature. It evolved from green algae and is considered the first land plant. Moss thrives with high levels of rain and humidity, and is essentially a moisture-loving plant. Today, there are around 20,000 species of moss, found everywhere that the environment is favourable to their basic requirement of moisture.
Moss helps to soak up rainfall, maintain dampness in the soil below and control temperature. This enables other plants around it to thrive in habitats such as marshes and woodland. Moss communities offer microhabitats that are critical to the survival of a diversity of organisms. They provide valuable shelter for insects to live, lay their eggs and hunt for food.
Moss plays an important role in the forest. Tree stumps that have plenty of moss nurture the small trees of the next generation, which grow out of the moss. Moss acts as a nursery for tree seeds, and it protects the seeds from drying out. Moss helps preserve the coniferous forest, especially at high elevations.
In Japan, our nuisance weed is a metaphor for eternity and is much cherished. There, they have around 1,800 species of moss. That’s a lot for a small country, but Japan stretches far to the north and south. I found, when visiting there, that moss is an essential part of Japanese gardens in temples, shrines, parks and private residences.
The garden of Saihō-ji
Let me take you to the garden of Saihō-ji, acclaimed by many as Kyoto’s most beautiful garden. It’s listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is especially famous for its moss garden; thus, it’s commonly known as the Moss Temple or Koke-dera.
In 1339, the famous Zen monk Musō Soseki became the head priest of the temple and remodelled the garden. For him, creating gardens was part of his Zen meditation routine. He founded a lot of temples and built or remodelled their gardens, but Saihō-ji is clearly his masterpiece. There are about 120 species of moss just in Saihō-ji. I was told to take a pocket magnifying glass with me to really appreciate the moss.
Gazing over the undulating garden, I saw a sea of emerald, jade and lime hues that covered the rocks with rounded clumps that were almost like cushions. Some had thin, non-waxy leaves that glistened and were almost transparent when magnified. Others looked like patches of small conifers and were so soft to the touch. One of the guides explained that they were once used to stuff pillows.
Since moss has no roots and absorbs water and nutrients through its leaves, it freely grows on rocks and concrete. A miniature intricate world—that’s the magic of moss!
With the emergence of Zen Buddhism and the tea ceremony, gardens held great importance in Japan for clearing the mind, strolling, writing poetry and admiring nature transformed by artful and patient practice. Miniature rocks or boulders were metaphors for mountains, sand for rivers, and moss for the land and the forest.
Moss epitomizes the Japanese ideal of wabi-sabi, embodying simplicity, serenity, harmony and weathering through time and age. Moss has an uneven surface and absorbs sound, contributing to the garden’s quiet ambiance and calming visual aspect. In everyday maintenance of Japanese gardens, it’s necessary to remove leaves and weeds from the moss, which protects it and allows it to grow. Also, it must be kept moist—naturally or by hand.
Visiting a Japanese moss garden is like diving into a tiny world. These have become a feature of Western gardens and parks, where Japanese-style gardens are popular. Although this style seems minimalistic, it isn’t easy to achieve the unique balance of nature, artifice and spiritual elements that I experienced at Saihō-ji.
Consider the moss you encounter with the Japanese eye. Moss is a key part of nature and Asian gardens, even though it’s small and unobtrusive with no colourful flowers. Instead, moss offers a fresh, humble, timeless beauty.
"СВЯЗАННОЕ ЧТЕНИЕ" ADMIRING IMPERFECTION: The wabi-sabi spirit in my garden»
