Textured Mosses

When you live in an area where winter lingers and spring is slow in coming, you learn to listen and watch for each transition. The moss is no longer covered by snow and it is the only green around except for the pine trees.

Listen, can you hear it? Spring's sweet cantata. The strains of grass pushing through the snow. The song of buds swelling on the vine. The tender timpani of a baby robin's heart. Spring.
Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider, Northern Exposure, Wake Up Call, 1992