Moss Mania

I’ve been giving my mania for moss and mossy things full rein lately. A crisis may be imminent. What do you think?



This actually represents the marriage of two of my manias: moss and ridiculous anthropomorphization (if that’s a word). That’s golden club moss standing in for the little guy's hair. Factoid: Dinosaurs ate this stuff for breakfast.

And I saw this on a hike in Forest Park on Sunday. Very Blair Witch-like and right here in Portland, too. Shiver!!!!



The Stumps Have Eyes!

Of course, there was nothing but moss, lichens, and ferns on the trails I hiked at the Oregon Coast last week. As part of my pact with myself to take it slow and easy, I found myself taking note, more than usual, of the rustic benches that show up—sometimes in the weirdest and most remote places—here and there on the trails.

Here’s my favorite.



Now, I wouldn’t want to sit on that thing (rising damp, you know), but I love the way it looks. Note the whopper specimens of shelf fungus growing out of it! And I love the fact that some trail maintenance person decided to make furniture out of a fallen tree. Why ever not? It sure beats schlepping a prefab bench up the trail.

So all of a sudden, I’m totally into trail benches even though, in the recent past, I scoffed at them and the idea that someone could be so wiped out after a short incline or (sometimes) no incline at all that he/she would need to collapse onto a bench. (How typically intolerant of me.)

Maybe I still do think that a little bit, but I must say I have come to appreciate the charms of these benches.

Here’s another supercool one, located near Upper Kentucky Falls.



Didn’t it once belong to Fred and Wilma Flintstone? I seem to recall seeing it in their rumpus room. And guess what? I actually sat on this one for a while and enjoyed the view (and ate some chocolate-covered peanuts [if you must know]).