Sarah, my daughter, here age 11, is “log surfing” a rocky piece of driftwood on the shore of Witty’s Lagoon in Victoria, B.C.
As Sarah and I stroll the causeway, I spy this lone, scruffy tree. Despite its inhospitable surroundings, it has managed to thrive.
Is it really the only tree seed to land in this particular spot? Where are its offspring? What made this particular seed so special?
Is there really no holy spark to natural selection? In the time of Darwin, there was no choice: it was ‘dogma du jour’ or nothing.
Can we not, now, feel free to glimpse a touch of the divine in the origin of species?   Mark Heine