Bog cotton usually sends its furry white flower head above the heather lines like punctuation in a sentence or grace notes in a hymn. You can spin it, if you are daft enough or desperate enough, but mostly I admire it for its supporting role in the cast of characters on the moss--or moor--never flashy or dramatic like broad swathes of heather or giddy whins.
Until now, that is. I had been told that the bog cotton was so profuse across the Killimster moss that it looked like snow, but as we rounded the bend in the road and I caught a glimpse of the profusion of dancing white caps I was stunned.
We found a spot to stop the car and I walked into the nearest field awash with the understudies now suddenly in a starring role. As I made my way over the track I noticed the smell of burnt wood. I realized then that this profusion of bog cotton is probably part of the aftermath of wildfires that raged over this moss.