for my dad, the botany major

The vegetation in New Zealand is one of the few things about this country that feels demonstrably foreign. Fern trees, a plant my mind wants to associate solely with tropical rain forests, are everywhere.
Around the volcanic mountains and plains of Tongariro National Park, the ground is covered in rust-colored, thick grasses or brown-and-red shrubs, still with the ferns scattered in the mix.
Elsewhere, the landscape is uniformly green, usually the stunning, not-quite-natural green of golf courses and baseball fields. Part of this is due to the sheep. Hillsides have been cleared of trees and the grass kept short by millions of sheep.
Even when the landscape doesn't look like a well-kept lawn, where the trees have been allowed to stand free, it only means more shades of green. Often with the fern trees poking through the pine or leafy stands.