Is
there anything that creates atmosphere like Spanish moss?
Anything?
I’ve
been giving it a lot of thought, and I don’t know that there is.
The
way it cascades and falls off a tree is simply, wonderfully elegant
(and frightening at the same time). It adds character and distinction,
and both possesses and delivers a sense of location few other
things can match.
During
a visit to Yosemite National Park, I spotted a tree with staghorn
lichen on it. I asked the ranger with us about it, and she identified
it for me. She went on to say that it was a bit of a treasure
for the park, a significant point of pride, since it was pretty
much known to only grow in places with exceptional air quality.
I’ve heard it grows—and thrive—in other places, but I’ve never
seen it any place except Yosemite.
Years
later, on a visit to Olympic National Park, I was treated to ridiculous
displays of moss. In fact, the gorgeous Hoh Rain Forest features
a short hiking trail called the Hall of Mosses. Absolutely beautiful,
and like so many of the national parks, highly recommended for
a visit.
Many
places can claim pristine conditions and unique beauty. That acknowledged
and established, however, for me Spanish moss tops them all. Anyone
that has ever had the pleasure of visiting the city of Savannah
under the skies of a clear evening will readily admit that the
breathtaking and eerie ambience generated by the moss will delight
and haunt them forever. It is, unchallenged, a feature that shifts
everything around it as nothing else can.
Still,
have you ever driven into Olympic National Park? Or Joshua Tree
National Park. From the entries to points deep inside the borders
of these parks, the landscape and scenery shifts and changes in
ways that generate one gasp after another.
Joshua
Tree National Park? Not only are the trees spectacular, the collision
of two deserts within a single park offers an environment that
defies description.
What
keeps returning to my mind, as I walk some areas in Florida dripping
with Spanish moss, are the words of national park rangers in different
west coast parks. Just like the staghorn lichen moment, they referred
to the air quality. Spoke of environmental care. Pointed out the
way nature looks after itself. And that combines with this Spanish
moss visual to lift my spirits and spark my thoughts.
When
you see Spanish moss draped around the branches of a tree, it’s
providing a visual, creating a theme, defining a location with
depth and body and spirit. There’s a thickness to it that you
can sense and feel. Something inescapably different and enveloping
and wonderful.
And
forget cobwebs. Forget props on the lawn. Forget lighting and
forget speakers with music and sounds. If you asked me to design
a haunted house, the first thing I’d do is spread Spanish moss
on the trees around the yard. Sun goes down, that stuff absorbs
the light from the moon and makes you believe in ghosts.
I
usually approach the process of writing nonfiction essays as a
bit of a stroll along a path with some friends. Informal. Imperfect.
Engaging. Head into the woods and walk along a trail. You’ll find
many things exactly where they should be. You’ll also stumble
across a tree that may seem out of place, or a rough edge where
everything else is smooth.
And
here, an essay on Spanish moss.
It
was an observation. Out with the dogs, and there it was, dangling
and draping and stretching and enveloping. Spanish moss on a tree.
As much as it tries to blend, and to stay off in the background
unnoticed, it succeeds and it fails. It reminded me of so many
moments when nature surprises and delights and offers up a very
specific, very isolated, very regional and local and rare and
unique treat.
There
is nothing that creates atmosphere the way Spanish moss does.
Nothing. (And if you dare to go out on an October evening, clear
skies and a full moon overhead, fog blanketing the ground as the
day’s temperature shifts radically as the night takes over, the
walkway lined by oaks and myrtle and cypress adorned with Spanish
moss, I’ll be waiting to discuss it with you further.)