Growing trend gathers moss appeal
Japan’s age-old love for tiny fuzzy plants finds passionate new enthusiasts
Sakuho: Kaori Shibo peered through a magnifying glass in a forest in central Japan, emitting a delighted gasp. The object of her adoration? Moss.
“Oh, this one’s sporophyte is breaking out! I’ve never seen this before,” an enchanted Shibo, 41, shouted, her head nearly close enough to kiss a fallen tree log in the forest in Yatsugatake.
She was on a stroll with 20 other people who are part of a growing community in Japan obsessed with bryophytes, plants that include moss, liverworts and hornworts.
“When you stare at a tiny piece of green, you find a vast world expanding from it,” explained fellow moss enthusiast Masami Miyazaki.
“It’s like a micro universe,” the 42-year-old said.
The group was out exploring days into the rainy season, perfect weather for an expedition to spot the many mosses, liverworts, hornworts and lichens thickly coating the forest’s trees and rocks.
The forest, which surrounds Shirakomanoike lake and spreads across the northern Yatsugatake mountain range, is a popular spot for micro-plant enthusiasts.
Over 500 varieties can be seen in the Yatsugatake mountain range, according to Masanobu Higuchi, Japan’s leading bryology expert and the hike’s leader.
“I am infatuated with moss, not just because of their pretty shapes and colours,” Shibo said.
“I am moved by the fact that you can find them anywhere but never realise how magnificent they are.”
In recent years, moss enthusiasts have multiplied in Japan, with hikes catering to those eager to spot different varieties and shops selling the plants in terrariums well suited to small Japanese homes.
The Northern Yatsugatake Moss Association began organising moss viewing hikes in 2011, attracting around 40 people over the year.
This year, 140 people scored tickets to the association’s hikes, held each month until October, with demand exceeding available spots.
Moss has been popular with traditional Japanese gardeners for centuries, and the plants grow well in the country’s humid climate.
“A beautiful natural landscape that is taken and compacted, that is the essence of Japanese gardens,” said Chisao Shigemori, a prominent Japanese garden designer.
Speaking at the carefully groomed Japanese garden at Kyoto’s Tofukuji temple, he said moss is the best ground-covering for such traditional settings because it helps replicate natural landscapes in miniature.
“The landscape of mountains and contrasting densities of green can be all expressed by moss,” he said.
At the temple, much of the garden is covered with juniper haircap, known as sugi-goke in Japanese.
Its spiky stems resemble miniature cedar trees and is very popular with Japanese garden designers.
For some Japanese, moss is also big business.
Nicknamed the ‘Moss King’, 64-year-old Oichi Kiyomura spends most days digging through wild bushes, slopes and cliffs looking for moss he can sell to enthusiasts.
It’s a far cry from his former career, running nightclubs, but Kiyomura, based in Tokyo’s Nikko mountains, says business is good.
A modest estimate says he makes 30 million yen (RM109,641) a year.
His moss conversion came one day when he was out mushroom picking with a friend.
“I found a really beautiful community of moss, clustered in the shape of small domes.
“It was my first encounter with moss,” he said.
It was known locally as arahashiraga-goke, popular among bonsai farmers for its silky fine leaves.
“I thought there was no way people would ignore something so beautiful if I started selling it.”
He purchased vast lots of land, including alongside an abandoned golf course, and started gathering the micro-plants.
He now sells to temples, traditional garden designers, bonsai farmers and terrarium hobbyists.
He has even developed a greening system that allows moss to be grown on building roofs in cities to help bring down temperatures.
Kiyomura admits some find moss rather uninteresting, but he defends his obsession with the plants.
“I would live with it even if no one cared about it.” — AFP