I can’t take credit for finally getting emerald green moss started in my backyard in Jackson. It just showed up, years after I stopped trying.
Understood, not everyone likes moss. For those that don’t, it shows up at will, easily covers shaded, moist brick walks and make them a bit slippery, is tricky to get rid of for long, grows under and loosens roof shingles, and kills the lawn.
Actually, that last bit isn’t true. Moss merely colonizes spots that are too miserable for grass: shade, excess moisture, and compacted soil that is usually acidic, any one of which are enough to peter out sun-loving turfgrass plants that require bright light and good soil drainage for deep roots. If you are unable to remove the trees, spread lime, and aerate the soil, you are out of the lawn business, making a moss garden your best option.
But what if you love moss? Except in the driest conditions, the ancient, primitive ground-hugging carpet has a unique look, and feels cool and velvety to those who are young enough at heart to walk on it barefoot. It makes a superb lawn substitute in deeply shaded gardens, and brilliant accents when pressed in between ferns, liriope, and other shade garden plants, or covering parts of rock walls. It even works well as a mulch in potted plants that are watered often. And no, it does not cause mold-related allergies.
The moors of northern England where I wander part of the year hide remnants of deep-shade temperate rain forests with cool humidity so thick you can lick it; mosses cover the ground, hide tree trunks, drip from tree and shrub branches, and encrusts fallen logs and stone walls. But getting it to grow in my Jackson garden has been a feat.
Not that it isn’t all over Mississippi, just that my garden lacks the ideal conditions needed by most of our native moss varieties. So, I created an authentic “stumpery” in a shaded spot, arranging large, weathered tree stumps and logs, and complementing them with ferns, hostas, heucheras, liriope, Solomon seal, hellebores, and other shade perennials, plus a few large stones for accent.
Perfect place for moss, right? Almost. I followed various online guides for getting moss started, including chopping it up and mixing it with buttermilk (which turns out to be a widespread but totally useless myth), and scavenging sheets of moss from the woods, but nothing seemed to work. Turns out, the kinds of moss I want will survive drought, but requires steady moisture to get established, at least a little sprinkle every few days or week or so. But I am gone for weeks and months at a time, unable to keep wetting down till it got established.
I finally found a way around it by adding a splashy water feature that throws a tiny bit of fine mist in the air 24/7, which turned out to be enough even for my Spanish moss, which is actually a bromeliad not a true moss, that I hung like ghostly curtains from overhead limbs.
It was sufficient to get my moss remnants to take hold; a few patches started showing up here and there, apparently getting adequate moisture from a few rains and the humidity from the water garden, and it is now a nice patch and spreading. Like the small “resurrection” tree ferns on my stumpery logs, the moss goes golden brown when rain is scarce, but quickly greens up with just a splash from the hose.
Now lush moss has become a low-maintenance conversation piece in an otherwise barren garden spot.
Felder Rushing is a Mississippi author, columnist, and host of the “Gestalt Gardener” on MPB
