The moss in the Olympic Penninsula is almost indescribable. We hit a 28-day dry spell, so the normal green and spongy fauna is a bit on the crispy side. But it's still remarkable to see covering the pines and maples. Draping. Hanging. Looping down toward the soil. It helps ignite our imagination--and soon we're viewing unicorns, giant preying mantises. On a tour with a John the ranger, we discover the delicate balance of the temperate rainforest. The importance of the smallest of creatures--to the air, soil, and water. It is a joy to spend time here with my favorite aunt and uncle. Olympic National park is a sacred place-- a World Heritage site, and I'm thankful to a be a part of the magic. A part of the string that ties us all together.
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