The ferns beneath the eaves of my roof are the best

arguments for natural selection that I’ve ever encountered. I didn’t plant them there, nor did anyone else, nor did they plant themselves. Nevertheless the few seeds that found their way there certainly do like it with a direct intravenous drip every time it rains. I still can’t shake the notion that there’s a creative principle to evolution, but in the creative, not the created, phase. If only we could find the transfer particles.