In a rock garden, every rock and boulder serves as a host to lichens that persist throughout all seasons. These quiet thalli, with their varied colours and textures, create subtle layers of life across the stone surfaces, giving the garden a sense of enduring vitality. Among the seasonal blossoms that emerge in spring, summer, and autumn, the lichens remain constant—ancient residents that bridge the passage of time. Together, the rocks, flowers, and lichens form a distinctive landscape in which each element contributes to a narrative of beauty, resilience, and the continuous unfolding of life.

In a quiet corner of Kew stands an old eucalyptus tree—perhaps more than a century old. Its trunk is thick, its branches weathered by decades of wind and rain. Yet one striking feature sets it apart: no lichens grow on its bark.
This absence carries a message of its own.

The bark of eucalyptus, with its distinctive chemistry, shedding layers, and smooth surface, rarely provides the stable, welcoming substrate that lichens require. This is closely linked to the “social nature” of lichens—their need for a surface that allows attachment, persistence, and community formation.

Across Kew, much younger trees host rich assemblages of lichens, each supporting vibrant microhabitats. But this venerable eucalyptus remains untouched, seemingly unwilling to host even a single lichen colony.

So we might ask: Does this not convey a message?
Does it not invite us to reflect on the relationship between bark chemistry, tree species, and the ecological communities that choose—or refuse—to settle there?

A decorative stone urn beside the pond has become extensively colonised by lichens, turning its surface into a delicate biological tapestry. Yet this raises a challenging question: how can we clean or conserve such a heritage feature without damaging the sensitive lichen communities that have made it their home? The urn’s stone is gradually shaped by biological weathering, while climate change introduces new pressures that may accelerate deterioration or disrupt these established lichen assemblages. Protecting both the artwork and the organisms that inhabit it requires approaches that do not yet fully exist. How we might safeguard such features against climate-driven change is a question that future science must answer.

On the steep, traditional roof of the Minka House at Kew—where Japanese vernacular architecture meets the living landscape—lichens of the genus Cladonia have created a remarkable miniature forest. Their delicate cups, branching structures, and soft shades of green and grey weave across the roof surface, forming a quiet yet dynamic ecosystem perched above the building.

Within this small but intricate habitat, we recorded three distinct Cladonia species, each contributing its own form and ecological role. Their presence demonstrates how even a historic roof can become a thriving substrate for biodiversity—a place where architecture, culture, and ecology intersect in subtle harmony.

These tiny forests invite visitors to look closer and discover the hidden beauty of the micro-worlds that flourish atop cultural landmarks.

This bench in the heart of Kew is not only a resting place for people; lichens are its quiet guests. On wood once freshly cut and carefully sanded, soft patches of grey and green have slowly appeared. The lichens have settled gently, finding space in fine cracks where moisture lingers and time moves slowly.

As visitors sit and rest, often unaware, they share the bench with these patient companions. The lichens mark the passage of years, telling a silent story of endurance, calm, and the subtle meeting of nature with a human-made object.

The Pinus arizonica tree stands gracefully within the garden, its trunk and branches rich with resin typical of pine species. Despite the sticky, resinous surface, the twigs support a surprisingly beautiful community of lichens. Pale greys, soft greens, and muted yellows cling to the branches, creating delicate patterns against the dark bark. These lichens thrive where light and air circulate freely, demonstrating remarkable adaptability. Their presence transforms the resin-laden branches into living micro-landscapes, illustrating a quiet balance between chemical defence, environmental exposure, and biodiversity.

A long-established and intimate association exists between mosses and lichens, reflecting a subtle yet persistent form of coexistence. This relationship is expressed visually through the intermingling of soft green moss carpets with the darker, often black or grey tones of lichens. Mosses create a humid, structurally complex microhabitat resembling a miniature forest, within which lichens develop as discrete patches or island-like thalli. Rather than direct competition, this spatial arrangement reflects niche differentiation and mutual tolerance. Such fine-scale coexistence highlights the ecological stability and resilience of cryptogamic communities, where mosses and lichens together shape micro-landscapes that persist over long periods of environmental continuity.

Early colonising lichens are often the first living organisms to settle on granite benches and slabs. Even highly polished, smooth granite surfaces are not immune. Microscopic surface irregularities, airborne dust, and thin moisture films provide enough foothold for pioneer crustose lichens such as Aspicilia, Lecanora, and Acarospora. These hardy species tolerate strong light, drought, and extreme nutrient limitation, gradually interacting with the stone through chemical and physical weathering. The same early colonisers are frequently observed on polished granite gravestones, confirming that hardness and shine do not guarantee protection. Granite may appear inert and permanent, but for lichens it represents an open, living surface ready for colonisation.

Just as the passage of time is recorded in the ageing trees of Kew, lichens too reflect the gradual accumulation of years. Their exceptionally slow, radial growth produces expansion patterns that indicate relative, rather than exact, age—often spanning many decades and, in some cases, centuries. Some long-established lichen thalli may therefore be broadly comparable in age to the largest and oldest trees within the Gardens. The estimation of lichen age and growth rates forms the basis of lichenometry, a scientific method that uses lichen size and growth behaviour to infer the approximate age of exposed stone surfaces, providing an informed yet inherently approximate reading of time embedded in natural and historic landscapes.

As you walk up a set of steps with your family, you may notice small patches on the stone—marks that look like bits of chewing gum pressed into the surface. Most people pass them without a second glance. Yet these are not stains at all; they are lichens, part of a quiet, hidden world that may be waiting to spark the curiosity of a child’s mind.

Pause for a moment and look more closely, and these lichens reveal themselves as remarkable examples of symbiosis, where fungi and algae live together in delicate balance. They show us how life finds a foothold even on the hardest urban surfaces, asking for nothing more than light, air, and time.

So wherever you go, when you notice these subtle patches beneath your feet, take a moment to stop—and welcome the beauty of the lichen world and the story of coexistence it tells.

Along the edge of a small pond or lake, where the water lies calm and reflective, stones often become resting places for many birds. The постоян presence of moisture, combined with nutrients carried by the birds, creates ideal conditions for lichens to slowly spread across the stone surfaces.

These lichens form delicate patterns—living traces shaped by humidity, light, and time. Set against the gentle movement of the water and the reflections of the surrounding landscape, they contribute to scenes that linger in the memory of any visitor.

Such moments remind us that some of the most enduring images of a place are not defined by grand gestures, but by the quiet interactions between water, stone, wildlife, and the small forms of life that connect them.

Araucaria trees stand with a striking sense of grandeur, their strong silhouettes defined by rigid, scale-like leaves arranged in a precise spiral along the branches. This distinctive foliage gives the trees an almost architectural presence. Yet within this visible structure lies a hidden world—one revealed only through careful observation.

Among the overlapping leaves, lichens quietly establish themselves, sometimes even colonising the leaf surfaces. Their subtle colours and textures create a delicate contrast with the deep green of the foliage, forming a living micro-landscape within the tree itself.

These lichens, nestled among the spirally arranged leaves of Araucaria, capture the attention of any nature lover and remind us that even the most monumental forms in nature host fragile and beautiful worlds at a much smaller scale.

Sometimes, on a short walk to grab lunch or enjoy a cup of coffee, a single, unassuming stone by the roadside catches the eye. It sits quietly where it has been for years, passed by countless times without notice. Yet with a moment’s pause and a closer look, that ordinary stone opens onto a beautiful hidden world of lichens.

Across its rough surface, patterns of colour and texture unfold—lichens in subtle shades and intricate forms, growing slowly and patiently in silence. This small world exists right beside our everyday path, not in some distant wilderness, but within arm’s reach of daily life.

Seeing these lichens reminds us how close nature truly is. They invite us to slow down, to notice, and to take pleasure in the quiet beauty of life that thrives unnoticed along our way.

When I first saw the structure from a distance, I assumed it was a memorial monument. Its form immediately reminded me of a similar building in Iran, above the tomb of Hafez in Shiraz, the renowned Persian poet. As I drew closer, however, it became clear that this was not a tomb but an ornamental building set within the garden.

This structure is part of a series of garden follies commissioned by Augusta, Princess of Wales (1719–1772), and her son King George III (1738–1820), who employed the distinguished architect William Chambers (1723–1796) to enhance the splendour of the royal pleasure grounds at Kew.

For me, as someone deeply fascinated by both lichens and historic architecture, the building offered more than architectural interest. Its stone surfaces invited closer attention, revealing a quiet living layer shaped by time and environment. I approached the structure to explore the lichens growing upon it—and recorded this film to share that hidden encounter with you.

On outdoor stone sculptures, birds and lichens form a closely linked system of biodeterioration. Birds repeatedly perch on elevated surfaces, depositing droppings rich in nutrients and soluble salts. These deposits retain moisture, alter surface chemistry, and create ideal conditions for microbial growth.

Algae and cyanobacteria colonise first, followed by lichens that exploit the enriched, moisture-stable surface. In this way, birds act as key enablers, while lichens become the visible and persistent expression of a deeper process.

Birds also intensify decay indirectly by trapping dust, creating local shade, and altering wet–dry cycles, all of which promote micro-cracking and salt crystallisation. This explains why lichen control in open-air heritage is so challenging: removing lichens alone does not break the cycle.

Effective conservation must therefore address both bird activity and lichen growth. Without managing the former, the latter will inevitably return. 

In ecological terms, any stone that remains undisturbed for long periods will gradually become a living surface. Lichens are among the first and most resilient colonisers of such stone, able to survive without soil and under extreme environmental stress.

By trapping airborne particles, retaining moisture, and releasing organic acids, lichens slowly alter the stone surface and create stable microhabitats. Their colours—golden yellow, pale grey, deep black—are not decorative accidents, but indicators of chemical composition, symbiotic partners, and environmental adaptation.

What appears inert is, over time, transformed into a colourful lichen world: a quiet yet complex micro-ecosystem that reveals how stillness allows nature to build beauty, structure, and resilience.