{"id":1425,"date":"2013-02-15T16:49:03","date_gmt":"2013-02-16T00:49:03","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/delightfilledart.wordpress.com\/?p=1425"},"modified":"2016-01-24T20:39:17","modified_gmt":"2016-01-25T04:39:17","slug":"moss","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.nancyduckhildebrand.com\/?p=1425","title":{"rendered":"moss"},"content":{"rendered":"

We awoke to a shining sun in a gleaming blue sky; a rare sight for British Columbians in winter. My three-year-old son and I decided to go for a hike, and he suggested a nearby waterfall. I forgot how rejuvenating the forest is. To walk among trees, permanent and calm, soaked in verdant spongy cloaks of moss. To crouch beside a clear stream and sift the gravel, picking out stones. To hear water streaming over a cliff, gurgling under the footbridge.<\/p>\n

I forgot to bring the camera, and at that moment I wanted to record it forever. Then I remembered a time before social media, before digital cameras, when we relied on our memories for this sort of thing. My son’s gold-rimmed silhouette as he dug with a toy shovel in the stream, the sun blinding me through the trees, the heart-shaped hole in a dead lightning-struck trunk. The trees with gnarly finger-like roots overwhelming mossy spoiling logs. We were in paradise. Sunshine. Where was everyone else in this city? We had this beautiful spot to ourselves.<\/p>\n

We did gather some moss and planted it on our rock wall in the yard. I also had a short moment of inspiration and made a few planters out of these insulators<\/a> I’ve had since summer.<\/p>\n