Here today

In contrast to my previous blip of the rugged old clam of the sea,  these frail filaments of plant tissue are as evanescent as smoke.

Liverworts are tiny simple plants growing in dense emerald crusts on damp ground and  easily mistaken for moss or lichen.  Passing my favourite liverwort habitat today I noticed that a thousand tiny stalks had thrust up into the air.  Each bears a black capsule which bursts into a fluffy mass of spores to be carried away on the wind, ready to start a new plant when it lands.

There's slightly more to it than this since the simpler the life form the more complicated the reproductive process is,  but you can read more about it here if you are so inclined.

It wasn't easy kneeling on the wet ground to capture these delicate sporangia,  held erect by the tensile strength of their cells, but I was delighted to find that, by inserting a piece of slate behind a few,  I  had succeeded capturing (extra) all stages: the capsule intact, burst and over. Going, going, gone.