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from spring through summer. Found as far north as Maryland, it is a symbol of the South. Like tinsel on a holiday tree, it can be festive — or spooky in a Gothic sort of way. Tillandsia usenoides has always been put to practical use. Thousands of years ago, indigenous peoples tempered clay pots with moss. The Seminoles used it to make cord, blankets, clothing, sieves and a tea to cool a fever. Florida's settlers stuffed mat- tresses with it. The auto industry used it in car seats. I think of the moss as a weathervane, which not only tells me which way the wind is blowing, but how hard. Along with pine needles, it makes great mulch for the garden. In springtime, nesting birds fly by, trailing tufts of Spanish moss. The great horned owl will lay a bit of moss in the crotch of an oak to cushion its eggs. Bats nest in it. Owls rest by day camouflaged in moss- laden trees. Is it good to eat? Cattle think so. On his thousand-mile walk to the Gulf, John Muir made a bed of the stuff among the gravestones at Savannah's St. Bonaventure Cemetery. Penniless at the time, he spent a peaceful week in that place, which he considered the most beautiful he had ever seen. Without Spanish moss, our trees would be diminished. Florida naturalist Archie Carr said it best: "A big old live oak tree without its moss looks like a bishop in his underwear." % Sarasota News Leader July 11, 2014 Page 94