Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-07-03

Growing plants had been left in the
earth beneath the floor Of the porch o.
the newly constructed house.
Pale, attenuated, these living thing.
in their curious situation nevertheless
attempted to reach the sun.
Even a sassafras tree, all Of foot tall
leaned to the west hopefully, as If hop.
ing to achieve the impossible.
Several nameleSS weeds looked almost
hourishing, despite the fact that ne
sunshine had hit their leaves directly
for many days.
The only plants there which might
in time reach the light of day were 9
couple Of honeysuckles.
These had stretched themselves along
the ground straight west, unconsciouslJ
determined to get into the open.
If their roots got water which 1t wa:
difficult to see how they would, they
might in time come to the grill, and
poke their tendrils through.
when once more the honeysuckle came
into its ancient heritage of sunshine!
4 Il ~
One did not have to be a sentimental
ist to feel that there was something al
most pathetic in the sight of those
plants left growing there.
There could be no hope at all for the
miniature tree. Its destiny was upward
and there was strict limit in that di-
rection.
There was something inspiring, too
in the sight of all those growing things
doing their best under difficult circum-
stances.
Somehow a mechanistic explanation
did not seem fitting. 1t would not dc
to say merely that here were living
organisms doing their stuff" In accord
ance with old and fixed laws.
What II one looked at God there, be-
meath the porch, working even as He
worked in the beginning?
X X 4
1t was many years ago. In a city far
away, that the present writer indited,
in fit of juvenile enthusiasm, a story
which he called THE Flowers That
Walk"
1t was sent away to one of the larg-
est magazines in the country and re-
malned out for nearly three months,
wnen 1t was returned With a personal
note from the editor.
Even at that time we sensed what
was the matter with it. 1t was too BIZ
zarre. Flowers do not walk; they never
have walked, and perhaps they never
will.
The idea. however was a good one,
and the passage of years has not con-
WINGED us otherwise. Something Of that
merit probably struck the editor, and,
If 1t did, it was en- account of the peren-
NAL mystery. OF. the unconscious growth
OF plant life, which even a youthful in
experience could not blot out.
Motion was an attribute of life de-
MED the vegetable worId, in so far as
motion means movement in q line to-
ward a distant objective.
Plants do move, in many ways
Leaves not only rustic in the wind, but
have motions of their own. Some plants
possess leaves which close up at a
touch. Others open when shaken.
Many close, up their leaves at night.
Fly-catching plants 1--WE believe there is
specimen of the pitcher plant at the
Botanic Garden) are able to so move
themselves as to prevent the egress of
their prey once in.
Their root systems, however, have
firmly anchored all but free moving wa
ter plants to their initial positions. The
movement of water plants, of course, is
simple mechanical motion.
Strong are the anchors of plant life.
No one but has marveled at the sight
of giant tree bending and swaying in
wind. The power of those great roots
must be tremendous in order to be able
to keep that mighty stalk upright
* X
The dispensation toward the plants
seems firmly. fixed, by this time, but
there might come a day when they
would be given or would achieve for
themselves (perhaps it is the same
thing) the ability to move about as
freely as animals do now.
Then no householder could be sure
that he would wake up next morning
and find his borders as he had left