Along the fence line of my childhood home, a large Oak tree stood with a soft, fuzzy blanket of moss on the ground. This lovely, piney green moss was one of my favorite things. I would carefully transplant it into a small terracotta pot, then place it on my window sill.
My Mother was so patient with my gathering obsession. She would let me keep my dirt covered collections of nature for a time. The turtles and tadpoles never seemed to make it past the back door. Yes, like most Mothers, she had a special radar for all things living. She would let me keep them on the back porch for an afternoon, then send me back to the pond to release my little friends.