Moss Matters in Japanese Gardens

Kevin Warren
18 hours ago
5 min read

Updated: a few seconds ago

Golden Pond at Saiho-ji Temple is known for it's moss

The Quiet Work of Moss

In Kyoto’s temple gardens, moss doesn’t try to steal the show. It simply settles in—along stone paths, around lantern bases, at the edges of ponds—and, over time, it softens everything it touches. The longer you look, the more you realize: Moss Matters in Japanese Gardens, it is not a minor detail. In many places, it is the calm surface that allows rock, water, and maple to feel like one scene instead of separate parts.

Moss as a living measure of time

Japanese people have admired moss for centuries, and the reasons are as much cultural as they are botanical. Japan’s national tourism board notes that in classical Japanese poetry, moss often represents the deep passage of time. It also points out that Japan’s national anthem draws from a Heian-period poem that celebrates moss-covered rocks, and that moss rose in popularity as a deliberate garden element around the 14th century—fitting the wabi-sabi appreciation for simplicity and imperfection.

Nippon.com—writing from the perspective of cultural and environmental significance—echoes that thread, describing moss as admired for its subtle beauty and often seen as embodying wabi and sabi (transience and imperfection), while also noting its appearance in “Kimigayo.”

This is part of why Kyoto’s moss feels different than “green groundcover” in a typical landscape. It reads like patience made visible. It suggests a place has been cared for long enough to become quiet.

Kyoto’s moss is rarely an accident

It’s tempting to assume moss is just what happens in damp shade. Kyoto teaches a more respectful idea: moss is allowed, protected, and tended.

Portland Japanese Garden—one of the most respected Japanese gardens outside Japan—describes the traditional approach plainly during its Moss Appreciation Week: moss emerges where “shade, moisture, soil, and stillness” meet, and in Japanese gardens it is “not typically planted or imposed” so much as recognized as an existing presence that is then tended. The Garden adds that moss signals a harmony between human care and nature.

That sentence could just as easily describe Kyoto. As Josho Toga, Head Priest of Tenryu-ji Temple in Kyoto, is quoted as saying: “Moss is the essence of a Japanese garden.”

Saihō-ji (Kokedera): where moss becomes the lesson

Saihō-ji—often called Kokedera, the “Moss Temple”—is Kyoto’s best-known example. Japan’s tourism board describes the garden as covered in over 120 species of moss. Japan Guide likewise notes an estimated 120 varieties.

What matters here is not only the moss, but the way it is protected. The temple’s official site explains that it restricts visits to small numbers and requires reservations, a policy it says has been in place since 1977 so visitors can spend a quieter, more reflective time.

Saihoji Temple Garden, is renowned for it's moss

Saihō-ji’s own historical timeline adds a humble reminder of what moss often represents: after disasters and war devastated the temple, the site notes that “moss began to flourish.” The garden’s signature beauty is tied to endurance—green life returning, then being cared for long enough to become part of the place.

Giō-ji: deep shade, soft footsteps

Kyoto has many smaller moss sanctuaries, and they matter because they show moss is not only a “destination.” It is a mood.

Giō-ji, in the Sagano/Arashiyama area, is described by Kyoto’s official tourism site as a quiet temple surrounded by trees and a luxuriant moss garden, noting the dense growth and deep shade. Shade like that doesn’t just grow moss—it changes behavior. People slow down. Voices soften. The garden becomes less about “seeing everything” and more about noticing what is already there.

Giō-ji Temple, covered in moss, Kyoto Japan

Sanzen-in: moss beside water and koi

Moss becomes especially meaningful where it meets water.

Sanzen-in, in Ōhara north of Kyoto, is beloved for gardens that feel rural and unhurried. Kyoto’s official tourism site notes that elsewhere on the grounds are ponds stocked with colorful carp, along with stone Jizō statues.

This is where moss shows one of its most practical roles in Japanese garden composition: it softens the engineered edge of a pond. Stone meets water, and moss becomes the gentle middle ground. And when koi glide through that scene, their color and motion feel even more vivid against a steady green surface.

Why bryophyte moss is treated with such respect

It helps to say this plainly: in Japan, actual bryophyte moss (koke) is highly revered in gardens for what it represents—age, harmony, tradition—and it’s often maintained carefully rather than celebrated with a single, annual, loud festival. That quiet maintenance mindset is consistent with how moss is described in Japanese garden contexts: it is welcomed, tended, and protected because it signals balance.

Two “moss” celebrations—and what they reveal

Because Kyoto’s moss culture is usually quiet, it can be surprising to see moss celebrated as an “event.” But two modern examples—one in the U.S. and one in Japan—help clarify what different kinds of “moss” people gather to see.

Moss Appreciation Week at the Portland Japanese Garden

Moss Appreciation Week at the Portland Japanese Garden features educational tours (the Garden notes tours are free with admission), special displays, and moss-themed food. In 2026, Portland Japanese Garden lists the week as February 9–15.

Moss covered stone in the Portland Japanese Garden, Lower Stroll Garden

During the week, visitors can see a special moss display (with educational “fun facts”), try an interactive activity exploring moss diversity, and taste a moss yokan at the Umami Café, offered exclusively during Moss Appreciation Week.

Held in February, this annual event also connects to educational workshops through the broader Moss Appreciation Week tradition started by Lewis & Clark College—whose 2026 schedule includes hands-on programming such as a terrarium workshop.

While not a traditional festival in Japan, it highlights the cultural significance of moss in Japanese gardens by inviting visitors to slow down and look closely.

Fuji Shibazakura Festival and “pink moss”

Japan does have large spring “moss” festivals too—but here we need a careful distinction. Shibazakura, often called “moss phlox” or “pink moss,” is a flowering groundcover, not a bryophyte moss.

Pink moss or Shibazakura at Fuji Shibazakura Festival Japan

At Fuji Motosuko Resort, the official festival description says around 500,000 shibazakura bloom across the vast lands at the foot of Mount Fuji. The event period varies with bloom, and the official page lists 2025 as April 12 through May 25.

So yes: for “pink moss” or moss phlox (shibazakura), Japan hosts large spring festivals (April–May), such as the Fuji Shibazakura Festival near Mount Fuji, which features 500,000+ plants.

“Moss girls” and a Modern Love of Small Things

Moss is traditional, but it isn’t trapped in the past. Portland Japanese Garden notes that a popular 2011 book, Mosses, My Dear Friends by Hisako Fujii, helped inspire moss viewing parties among people who called themselves “moss girls.” Reporting that republished The Conversation similarly describes moss viewing parties among young women calling themselves “moss girls.”

In Japan, “moss girls” (koke girls) is a popular term for enthusiasts who enjoy visiting mossy spots and gardens.

A Quiet Takeaway for Koi Keepers

Carp at the Saihoji Temple, Golden Pond, which is surrounded by Moss

Kyoto’s moss gardens don’t feel timeless because they are untouched. They feel timeless because they are cared for—carefully, repeatedly, and with restraint.

For koi keepers and garden builders, that may be the best lesson moss offers: the most lasting beauty is usually the least forced. Make room for stillness. Protect the edges. Let time do some of the work. And when something as humble as moss begins to settle in, treat it like what it is in Kyoto—a quiet sign that the garden is finding its balance.