Writings about

the many life lessons

unearthed when we dig

in the dirt . . . and pursue

a wide range of other interests

in the constantly changing

garden of life.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Bringing in the Moss – First, Kill the Grass

Mosses grow along a dividing line. On one side stand people who are indifferent to them – or downright hostile. Across the line, people like me can’t get enough of those lovely plants; we’re trying to keep them happy, so we can keep them growing.

That’s because we know there are few gardening pleasures more keen than what you get from mosses. Soft, firm, beautiful, like ground clouds, mosses invite you to walk barefoot, caress them with your feet and hands, get close enough to inhale their fragrance –  a fresh combination of earth, sea and grass. As a design element, mosses create a lush, clean background for shrubs and trees. Moreover, they can choke out weeds, don’t waste water, don’t appeal to deer and, once established, escape even blue-jays, squirrels and other rodents.
Hair Cap, Which Reminds Me of Little Trees

I’ve enjoyed mosses all my life, mostly in woods. But, over time I knew the woods were not enough; I needed to make them a large part of my garden. Like so many pleasures cultivated in life, this one would require work.

Oh, what long, hard, sometimes strange, satisfying work it has been.

Moving to Connecticut from Georgia in 2001, I got something I’d always wanted: a blank canvas, 2 acres growing nothing I wanted to keep. Gardening on half the property was my plan, and I knew what I had to do:

First, kill the grass.



Easier said than done, but I was motivated. So, as neighbors worked tirelessly to kill the mosses and sow grass seed, I began scraping the ground, one space at a time, digging out grass and weeds, then covering that space with newspapers, cardboard, old clothing, anything, as long as it was biodegradable. I covered these materials with mulch, mostly pine bark, sometimes straw or pine needles, hoping they would add to the soil acid mosses love.

This of course was at the same time I was furiously planting the acre – six “rooms” of trees, shrubs, herbs, sedum, grasses and other perennials. Twelve-hour work days were short days during this period.
Paste of Cottonseed Meal, Water, Attracted Mosses

Naturally, my moss quest here in Connecticut recalled other efforts in other gardens.

In Atlanta, for example, where I gardened in the 1990s around a Victorian home on a small lot, I tried mightily to grow mosses. Once, no, twice, I made a paste of spores and water, combining it with all manner of ingredients, including molasses, yeast, eggs, buttermilk, set the concoction out in the sun until it stank real loud, then painted it onto rocks and soil. Then I spray-watered this mess several times a day for two or three weeks. I waited.

No luck.

Several times, I harvested mosses from woods whose owners I knew, brought them home and planted them in shady spots – just like the ones they’d come from. I chose my poorest soil, the kind I thought they favored. I kept them free of leaves, which may smother mosses; they certainly hide them. Again, I watered and waited.

Nothing.

As with the concoctions, these formerly thriving mosses, carefully dug and planted, just sat there, neither spreading nor looking particularly good as I released them from intensive care. Now, I know mosses can go dormant and will perk up with a good shot of water, but these did not look worth keeping. I went back to cultivating Scotch moss and Irish moss, which of course are not real mosses.

So, it was with a history of failures I set out to moss up my Connecticut garden. While this was not my first effort, I realized that, at age 60, it just might be my last, as I knew this garden would be the garden of a lifetime. This time, I had to get the mossing right.

First, kill the grass.

A few words about grass. I like looking at grass as much as the next gardener; I just don’t want to grow it. I do enjoy seeing grass and smelling its fresh-cut fragrance at someone else’s place. But mosses are my sustainable lawn.
Several Mosses Grow Into a Quilt

Back to the killing. Visitors to my garden may have noticed the edges of the Hartford Courant or The New York Times peeping out from covers of pine-bark mulch or pine needles bagged in the fall. Alas, following some grass- and weed-killing recipe, I sometimes used half-an-inch of newspaper when one section would have sufficed. The result of over-papering: After several years, scraps of old newspapers would occasionally blow across the garden, showing snippets of ads with prices that had long ago faded, even if the newsprint hadn’t. Don’t let anybody tell you that newspapers aren’t here to stay.

Similarly, during a walk through the garden, it was not unusual to see a button or zipper on the ground, reminders that they’d once been part of a shirt or pair of pants cum grass-suppressor.

As time went by and the killing materials became part of the earth, little splotches of moss appeared. But not enough and not fast enough. So, I (again) began harvesting from woods. This time, the woods were mine. Bryologists, the botanists who study mosses, say there are as many as 12,000 of these prehistoric plants known botanically as bryophytes. I counted about six varieties I got from myself, including one of my favorites, resembling little pine trees and  hair cap, known botanically as Polytrichum commune. Another I like a lot is campylopus: velvety, bright green and tough, often found growing in sun-baked sidewalk cracks. Then, there’s cushion moss, pale, silvery-green, resembling . . . a cushion.

I got a lot of help from my friends, too, and from people attending speeches I gave – along with contributions from strangers who’d heard on the grapevine that some guy wanted mosses. More than once, I came home to black plastic bags filled with mosses, deposited next to the garage. Also, there were folks who just wanted to get rid of theirs, in favor of fancy lawn grass. As one neighbor-friend told another, when I’d taken his unused stones for my wall, leaves for composting – annnd his unwanted moss: “Lee is always looking for stuff people are trying to get rid of.”

Every year, my mosses were multiplying, but the process felt too slow. So, in 2009, I began acidifying the soil with all deliberate speed, using cottonseed meal, peat, vinegar, iron, aluminum sulfate and sulfur granules in places I had not mulched. This assault did away with the grass in one season (summer), opening the way for mosses to start up and spread without competition from grass. New ones grew from spores traveling from here and there, producing a mosaic that only nature could make look so good, so fast.
These Mosses Found a Home on Lava Rock

Ironically, I have always had one small space that has grown moss from the beginning of my time on this land. It’s hidden away, behind the garage, undisturbed, safe. I had piled poor soil up, making a knoll and hoping for a moss garden. Winter came, and by spring, mosses had begun there, spreading so fast that, in a year or so, I couldn’t  tell where I had put the few clumps I tossed onto the pile. This spot has remained constantly mossed on its own, richly colored in greens and grays with no watering except rain.

This little space reinforces what a friend told me when he watched me put so much effort into attracting mosses to all the other spaces.  Do nothing, he urged. “They show up when they want to, when it’s time.”

Maybe. I do believe in the practice of doing nothing in some situations. And mosses might have appeared as quickly if I’d done nothing. But it would have seemed longer. Einsteinian, you know.  So, I did it the hard way.

To be sure, the war on grass is not over; I still have a lot more ground to moss. For now, however, I can say I fought the grass, and the moss won.

As did I, getting a priceless view from the windows: mosses, long- and short-haired, dark- and light-green. Grayish. One glows reddish when the sun hits it just right. Another’s mustard color. All are a feast for the eyes. And the soul.





13 comments:

  1. Love moss and wild violets in my garden!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Moss is one of my favorite things (next to trees) on this planet. There are entire kingdoms down there in the moss forests! Now that we have successfully transplanted ourselves from PA to CT, it's time to claim back the land from construction rubble and I'm hoping moss favors us with its presence. And,I have a question for you: I have many favorite/special plants I want to transplant from PA . . . serviceberry, blueberry, daffodils and tulips, St. John's wort, ginger, sedum . . . my only concern is exotic critters that may come along. Any pests that I might need to watch out for?

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ahhh, Janice, are there ever pests to watch out for! Not terribly exotic, but maybe more numerous than you had before. Perhaps that's because we live in paradise. I've never seen more deer, rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, woodchucks, voles, moles. Or volemoles, as I call them. Keep me posted on how your transplants fare. All that said, there's some solace in knowing we'll always have mosses, yes?

    ReplyDelete
  4. Kevin:

    Talk about a labor of love! I also love the colors,textures, and varieties of the mosses. Delicate and tough.

    ReplyDelete
  5. You have it right, Kevin – labor of love. Heavy emphasis on both those L words. Good thing there's such a great payoff.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Hello! Nitty Gritty Dirt Man left a comment on my blog, mentioning yours. I, too, am a moss lover for all the reasons you mentioned. I am in Alabama and have a woodland garden where mosses do well. I have enjoyed reading through your posts, including this one on your efforts to grow moss. You have a beautiful garden with soul! Best wishes, Deborah Elliott

    ReplyDelete
  7. Hellooo, Fellow Moss Lover, Deborah,

    Thanks for stopping by; I'm delighted you enjoyed my moss piece. It was my first post, reflecting my long love of mosses.

    Your woodland garden sounds like moss heaven; I'm going to head over to debsgarden right now and visit with you.

    By the way, I was born in Alabama, little-known place called Cuba.

    All best,
    Lee

    ReplyDelete
  8. Oh yes, I love moss. I have some that I have encouraged along the north side of our house. Most of it came naturally from the lot across the street where it grows. When it rains the water washes this area from across the street. I would love to get more to grow in different places in the garden. I laughed because I just went around and painted many of the rocks in the garden with buttermilk. It probably won't help but it made me feel better about trying.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Moss love is a powerful thing, isn't it, Lisa. As is moss migration. I am amazed at how many different varieties have shown up here since I made them feel welcome.

    As for buttermilk and honey and such, it may not help (and you know I tried buttermilk, too), but, what can it hurt? You ever transplant any mosses? Often it survives and spreads. Or just sprinkle spores from chunks of moss?

    ReplyDelete
  10. I am also trying a moss garden, and the moss is prolific, but, unfortunately in one place, the grass has come up in it way too much. I have heard that you should spray the area with roundup to kill the grass, but fear that it will kill the moss as well even though moss doesn't have true roots. I have been weeding the grass out, putting buttermilk mixture on it, and cutting the grass VERY short in order to get rid of it. Any suggestions?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. One good way to kill the grass – and encourage moss – is to acidify the soil by spreading aluminum sulfate and sulfur on the ground. Good luck.

      Delete
  11. "I began acidifying the soil with all deliberate speed, using cottonseed meal, peat, vinegar, iron, aluminum sulfate and sulfur granules in places I had not mulched." Quoted from above. Is there a particular ratio of ingredients you use? I've only used straight sulfur with good results but still have some tufts of grass coming up. Thanks.
    Art

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I used all those separately – except aluminum sulfate and sulfur, which I mixed 50-50. It's getting harder to fine sulfur granules, but if you do, they're easier to manage and last longer on the ground.

      Good to hear from you. Sounds like you're on your way to mossing. Good luck.

      Delete

To submit a comment, simply comment as: "name/URL" and fill in your name.
A URL is not required.