I stare at the hill for a minute, let the light do the talking. Where the slope catches the first shadow and the angle is just soft enough, that’s where I drop a splash of moss. Erosion lines get a hand when the slope feels too dry—like the edge of a creek that might have carved there. I only add texture when it feels like the scene is missing a breath of life, not when it’s already full. I rely on my own eye, not on a procedural bake, because nature has its own rhythm.