A Chinese philosopher developed the concept of “cup gardens.” The idea is similar to that of haiku: Using just a few words to capture an image or emotion, the poet leads the reader to a wider understanding of the universal aspect presented by the lines of the poem.

The purpose of a cup garden is the same. By placing a particular group of plants in a particular place, the landscaper or gardener seeks to arrest the viewer’s attention at this moment and spot. By focusing on just this one small garden, one begins to comprehend the larger world of nature.

Of course, the originator of the cup garden concept is Mother Nature herself. Take a walk in the woods or along a stream or near the wild shore of a pond or swampy area, and you’ll find a host of cup gardens, each one capturing in microcosm the universal truths of nature.

Over here, there’s a large, long exposed stone, green with vibrant moss. Look closely and you’ll see the moss has layers and variations of color. Run your hand over the top of the moss and feel the soft tickle of its elements.

The moss is the undergrowth of a miniature forest living in a cup garden atop this stone. Next are blue bead lilies. In spring, the wide, tapering leaves erupt from the moss, forming a circle around the stem, which holds small, bobbing yellow flowers. Later in the summer, through the miracle of fertilization, the flowers have become stunning blue beads of seed, reflecting the sky down here just above the forest floor.

Only a foot and a half high, a young hemlock towers above the moss and lilies, a giant compared to the life beneath it. Its branches sway in the gentle breezes and cast a moving shadow on the plants below. A dragonfly rests briefly on the top branch, its wings held open and ready for resumed flight, blue body brilliant against the clear, cellophane wings. Below, smaller insects scurry over the moss, searching for food, mates, or shelter.

Here on this one hard stone, the entire universe of nature throbs, its vastness compressed into one small cup garden.

Further on, there’s a small rise partially open to the sky. Moss and partridgeberry provide a colorful and textured surface, the round partridgeberry leaves contrasting with the upright stature of the moss. Growing through the ground cover are bunchberries, those miniature dogwoods. Only four leaves and a stem, their tiny flowers of spring have turned to brilliant red berries, giving Christmas coloration to a late July afternoon.

Several evergreens have begun the long, slow growth to become the “murmuring pines and hemlocks” of Longfellow’s famous poem Evangeline. You can’t simply pass this cup garden. Your senses are captured by the colors and sensuousness of the greens and red. You must stop and contemplate the whole of nature in this one small area.

A cup garden can also be temporary. Walk along the edge of a stream in the fall. The water is flowing now with autumn rains, gurgling over rocks and fallen branches. Trailing moss streams out with the moving water. Here in a quiet pool, a single red maple leaf floats. Nature has gently dropped it down for you to examine. A close look at the leaf reveals the color variations. What at first appeared to be simply red is really one color gently blending into a darker hue on this edge, while at the other end of the leaf, the shade is more orange. The brilliance is like a shaft of sunlight on the dark stream. Flowing water, rocks, leaf ­ all life encapsulated in one scene.

Even in winter, you can find cup gardens to delight and educate. Walk onto a frozen pond, and there you’ll find, standing all alone and surrounded by ice, a little island, a clump of last summer’s grass gently swaying with each soft breeze. It grows out of a hollow tree stump.

The edges of the stump are uneven, with hills and valleys, ragged evidence of years of decay. The sides of the stump still retain some bark, much of it covered with lichen, gray-blue and rough to the touch. It’s clear where insects have bored into the wood and left perfectly round tunnels behind.

Life and death, coinciding in the same substance, a lesson from one of nature’s cup gardens. Step outside and look around. You’ll find beauty and understandings to last a lifetime.

By Susan M. Poirier, Master Gardener