The one that looks like a tiny drinking vessel has a body that is pale greyish-green, with a stalk that rises from the ground and flares out into a small, cup-shaped structure at the top. The cups are usually 5 to 10 millimetres across, with a rolled or toothed margin. They look like tiny goblets, like something from a fairy tale, like vessels for a feast of the forest folk. It is the lichen of the empty cup, the one that collects nothing and persists anyway. What makes it special is the shape. The cup lichen is a fruticose lichen, meaning it grows upright, like a tiny shrub, but with a distinctive cup at the tip. The cups are called podetia, and they are the reproductive structures of the lichen. The margins of the cups are often covered in tiny, powdery granules (soredia) that break off and grow into new lichens. It is a master of fragmentation, a plant that reproduces by crumbling, scattering its dust across the ground. The stalk is pale greyish-green, often covered in tiny, scale-like projections. It is hollow and brittle, easily broken. The cups are usually solitary but can be clustered, forming a small colony of tiny goblets on the ground. When you find a patch of cup lichen, it looks like a fairy village, a settlement of tiny cups waiting to be filled. Biologically, the cup lichen is a partnership, a fungus and an alga living together. The fungus provides structure and protection. The alga provides food through photosynthesis. The cup lichen grows slowly, a few millimetres per year, and a large cup may be decades old. Each cup represents years of patient growth, a slow accumulation of cells and pigments. To find cup lichen is to find the tiny goblets on the ground. They are pale, cup-shaped, and fragile, a miniature drinking vessel in the soil. You can run your finger around the rim and feel the rolled edge. It is the lichen of the empty cup, the one that collects nothing and persists anyway, the one that proves that the most beautiful things are often the smallest and the most easily overlooked.