I pulled this out of a group of "weeds" at the edge of a formation. It never touched the ground. The leaves prove it — clean undersides, no soil line. It rooted anyway. All along the stem, in every direction. Here's what undoubtedly happened. Nearly everyday, I'd been raking wood mulch from high ground down to low, and every stroke throws dust. Not much — you barely see it. But it moves on air and it lands on everything, and it kept landing on this stem, day after day. Trillions of tiny hands, placing particles one at a time exactly where the plant utilized them. The roots came out looking like hair with static in it. Standing out, not reaching down. Because what it was reaching for was already all around it. So it isn't just what the mulch does when it sits. It's what the mulch does while it's traveling. You already know this. You've seen dust find its way onto everything in a room you were only walking through. People say this looks like too much work. They're watching the rake. One person, one arm, a lot of strokes. But the rake isn't doing the work. One stroke throws dust, and the dust rides the wind. Wind carries it further than I could. Rain pulls it down into places I'd have to dig to reach. Thousands of tiny hands finish what one stroke started. I'm not just moving the material. I'm handing it to something already moving. That's why it's less work, not more. The whole system was going to move anyway. We just have to get in step with it.