A coastal track. The wind in your face. The sea crashing below. You look up at a rock face. It is damp and dark, covered in moss. There it is. A cluster of fronds, broad and green. They are so glossy they look like they have been varnished. The shining spleenwort. The fern that shows up to the party in a clean shirt while everyone else is wearing moss. It stands out. It demands attention.
The shine makes it special. Other ferns are matte. They absorb light. They drink it in. They disappear into the shadows. The shining spleenwort reflects light. Its fronds are broad and leathery. They are so glossy that they catch the sun even in the gloom of a coastal cliff. They look like they have been polished. They look like they care about their appearance. This is not an accident. It is a feature.
The fronds are not divided into dozens of tiny leaflets like the
hen and chicken fern. They are simple. Or rather, they are once-divided. They have broad, oblong segments that look like individual leaves. The whole frond can reach sixty centimetres in length. The colour is a deep, rich green. It is the kind of green that makes you think jungle. This persists even when you are standing on a windswept cliff. The contrast is striking.
It clings. The shining spleenwort is a rock fern. It grows on vertical surfaces. These include cliff faces, rock walls, and the sides of boulders. Its roots creep into the cracks and crevices. It holds on where there is no soil. It collects moisture from the air. It collects moisture from the spray of the sea. It tolerates salt, wind, and sun. Most forest ferns cannot manage this. This one does.
Reproduction occurs by spores, like all ferns. The sporangia are clustered on the undersides of the fronds. They are protected by a thin membrane. When the spores are ripe, the membrane lifts. The spores are released into the wind. It grows in clumps. It often shares space with other rock ferns and mosses. Its glossy fronds stand out against the grey rock. It is a flash of green on the cliff face.
In a world of feathery, lacy, delicate ferns, those that hide in the deep shade and never see the sun, the shining spleenwort is the bold one. It grows where the light hits. It shows its face. It polishes its leaves and waits to be noticed. And it is noticed. Walk along any coastal track in New Zealand. Look up at the rock faces. You will see it. A patch of glossy green on the grey stone. The fern that came to the coast. It looked at the wind and the salt and the spray. It said it can work with this. No one told it otherwise.