Getting the upper hand (or maybe not)

No writing analogy today, just a springtime reflection from my photo journal. ~ Sunshine spills over the trees to lighten the gardens with a citron glow. Springtime colours smile in mossy lawns, tiny new alder leaves and an abundance of forget-me-nots, violets and periwinkle blooms. Every spring I rave about the multitude of greens in

Since when is a writer like moss?

I don’t understand moss. Shallow rooted, persistent beyond belief, it turns up everywhere. It’s in the gravel walkways around our property, taking over the lawn, creeping up trees and hanging from the limbs like gymnasts on a trapeze. In some places wild mosses are overcollected … varieties becoming threatened. That’s definitely not a problem in