Part Iii—Roots and Stems

ROOT HAIRS

Carefully pull up one of your bean plants and look at its root (Fig. 108).

You see that the root grows downward from the lower part of the stem.

This bean root looks not unlike a bunch of dirty threads, some quite thick, others very thin. If you look at these thread-like roots in a good light, perhaps you may be able to see growing from them a quantity of tiny hairs.

Now, what is the use of such a root as this?

Surely some of you are able to guess at the object of this root, and I will help the others to the answer.

Give a firm though gentle tug to one of the larger plants,—one of those that are growing in the pot of earth.

Does it come out easily in your fingers?

Not at all. Unless you have been really rough, and used quite a good deal of strength, the little plant has kept its hold.

What holds it down, do you suppose?

Ah! Now you know what I am trying to get at. Its root is what holds it in place; and this holding of the plant in place is one of its uses.

Its thread-like branches are so many fingers that are laying hold of the earth. Each little thread makes it just so much the more difficult to uproot the plant.

I think you know already that another use of the root is to obtain nourishment for the plant.

These thread-like roots, you notice, creep out on every side in their search for food and drink. The water they are able to suck in easily by means of tiny mouths, which we cannot see. But the plant needs a certain amount of earth food, which in its solid state could not slip down these root throats any more easily than a young baby could swallow a lump of sugar.

Now, how is the plant to get this food, which it needs if it is to grow big and hearty?

Suppose the doctor should tell your mother that a lump of sugar was necessary to the health of your tiny baby brother, what would she do about it?

Would she put the great lump into the baby’s mouth?

You laugh at the very idea. Such a performance might choke the baby to death, you know quite well.

Perhaps you think she would break the lump into small pieces, and try to make the baby swallow these; but even these small pieces might prove very dangerous to the little throat that had never held a solid morsel.

“She would melt the sugar in water, then the baby could swallow it,” one of you exclaims.

That is exactly what she would do. She would melt, or dissolve as we say, this sugar in water. Then there would be no difficulty in its slipping down the little throat; for you know when anything is thoroughly melted or dissolved, it breaks up into such tiny pieces that the eye cannot see them. When you melt a lump of sugar in a glass of water, the sugar is all there as much as it ever was, although its little grains no longer cling together in one big lump.

And so when the plant needs some food that the little root hairs are not able to swallow, it does just what the mother does. It melts or dissolves the solid food so that this is able to slip quite easily down the root throats.

But how does it manage this?

No wonder you ask. A root cannot fill a glass with water, as your mother did. Even if it could, much of this solid food which is needed by the plant would not melt in water, or in anything but certain acids; for you know that not everything will dissolve, like sugar, in water.

If I place a copper cent in a glass of water, it will remain a copper cent, will it not? But if I go into a drug shop and buy a certain acid, and place in this the copper cent, it will dissolve almost immediately; that is, it will break up into so many tiny pieces that you will no longer see anything that looks at all like a cent.

And as much of this earth food, like the copper cent, can only be dissolved in certain acids, how is the plant to obtain them? Certainly it is not able to go to the drug shop for the purpose, any more than it was able to fill a glass with water.

Fortunately it does not need to do either of these things.

If you will look closely at the root of a plant that has been raised in water, you will see that it is rough with a quantity of tiny hairs. These little hairs hold the acid which can dissolve the solid earth food. When they touch this food, they send out some of the acid, and in this it is soon dissolved. Then the little mouths suck it in, and it is carried up through the root into the rest of the plant.

Would you have guessed that plants were able to prepare their food in any such wonderful way as this? It surprised me very much, I remember, to learn that a root could give out acids, and so dissolve the earth food it needed.

ROOTS AND UNDERGROUND STEMS

In the last chapter you learned that the root of the bean plant has two uses.

It holds the plant in place, and it provides it with food and drink. Such a root as this of the bean plant—one that is made up of what looks like a bunch of threads—is called a “fibrous” root.

The next picture shows you the root of a beet plant (Fig. 109).

Such a thick, fat root as this of the beet is called a “fleshy” root. The carrot, turnip, radish, and sweet potato, all have fleshy roots.

This beet root, like that of the bean, is useful both in holding the plant in place and in providing it with food and drink.

But the fleshy root of the beet does something else,—something that is not attempted by the fibrous root of the bean.

Here we must stop for a moment and look into the life of the beet plant.

During its first year, the beet puts out leaves; it neither flowers nor fruits, but it eats and drinks a great deal. And as it does not use up any of this food in flowering or fruiting, it is able to lay by much of it in its root, which grows large and heavy in consequence. When the next spring comes on, the beet plant is not obliged, like so many of its brothers and sisters, to set out to earn its living. This is provided already. And so it bursts into flower without delay, its food lying close at hand in its great root.

So you see that a fleshy root, like that of the beet, does three things:—

1. It holds the plant in place.

2. It provides it with food and drink.

3. It acts as a storehouse.

These plants that lay by food for another year are useful as food for man. Their well-stocked roots are taken out of the ground and eaten by us before the plant has had the chance to use up its food in fulfilling its object in life, that of fruiting. Of course, when it is not allowed to live long enough to flower and fruit, it brings forth no young plants. So a habit which at first was of use to the plant becomes the cause of its destruction.

Perhaps you think that the white potato (Fig. 110) is a plant with a fleshy root.

If so, you will be surprised to learn that this potato is not a root at all, but a stem.

You think it looks quite unlike any other stem that you have ever seen. Probably you do not know that many stems grow underneath the ground, instead of straight up in the air.

If you find something in the earth that you take to be a root, you can feel pretty sure that it really is a stem, if it bears anything like either buds or leaves. A true root bears only root branches and root hairs. But in this white potato we find what we call “eyes.” These eyes are buds from which new potato plants will grow. Close to these are little scales which really are leaves. So we know that the potato is a stem, not a root. But this you could not have found out for yourselves, even with the sharpest of eyes.

Fig. 111 shows you the thick, fat, underground stem of the cyclamen. From its lower part grow the true roots.

Next you have that of the crocus (Fig. 112), while here to the right is that of the wood lily (Fig. 113). This is covered with underground leaves.

All these stems are usually called roots. In the botanies such an underground stem as that of the Jack-in-the-pulpit (Fig. 114) is named a “corm,” while one like that of the crocus is called a “bulb” (Fig. 112). All have a somewhat rounded shape.

During our walks in the woods last fall, often we found the Solomon’s seal, and stopped to admire its curved stem, hung with blue berries. I hope one of you boys whipped out your pocketknife and dug into the earth till you found its underground stem (Fig. 115). This was laid lengthwise, its roots growing from its lower side. From its upper side, close to one end, sprang the growing plant. But what causes those round, curious-looking scars?

These scars are what give the plant its name of “Solomon’s seal.” They are supposed to look like the mark left by a seal upon wax.

They show where the underground stem has budded in past years, sending up plants which in turn withered away. Each plant has left a scar which shows one year in the life of the underground stem.

Next spring when you find in the woods the little yellow bells of the Solomon’s seal, I think you will have the curiosity to dig down and find out the age of some of these plants.

Another plant with an underground stem is the beautiful bloodroot. As its name tells you, this so-called root contains a juice that looks something like blood. Such underground stems as those of the Solomon’s seal and bloodroot are called “rootstocks.” Rootstocks, corms, and bulbs are all storehouses of plant food, and make possible an early flowering the following spring.

ABOVE-GROUND ROOTS

But before we finished talking about roots we were led away by underground stems. This does not matter much, however, for these underground stems are still called roots by many people.

Just as stems sometimes grow under ground, roots sometimes grow above ground.

Many of you know the English ivy. This is one of the few plants which city children know quite as well as, if not better than, country children; for in our cities it nearly covers the walls of the churches. In England it grows so luxuriantly that some of the old buildings are hidden beneath masses of its dark leaves.

This ivy plant springs from a root in the earth; but as it makes its way upward, it clings to the stone wall by means of the many air roots which it puts forth (Fig. 116).

Our own poison ivy is another plant with air roots used for climbing purposes. Often these roots make its stem look as though it were covered with a heavy growth of coarse hair.

There are some plants which take root in the branches of trees. Many members of the Orchid family perch themselves aloft in this fashion. But the roots which provide these plants with the greater part of their nourishment are those which hang loosely in the air. One of these orchids you see in the picture (Fig. 117). It is found in warm countries. The orchids of our part of the world grow in the ground in everyday fashion, and look much like other plants.

These hanging roots which you see in the picture are covered with a sponge-like material, by means of which they suck in from the air water and gases.

In summer, while hunting berries or wild flowers by the stream that runs through the pasture, you have noticed that certain plants seemed to be caught in a tangle of golden threads. If you stopped to look at this tangle, you found little clusters of white flowers scattered along the thread-like stems (Fig. 118); then, to your surprise, you discovered that nowhere was this odd-looking stem fastened to the ground.

It began and ended high above the earth, among the plants which crowded along the brook’s edge.

Perhaps you broke off one of these plants about which the golden threads were twining. If so, you found that these threads were fastened firmly to the plant by means of little roots which grew into its stem, just as ordinary roots grow into the earth.

This strange plant is called the “dodder.” When it was still a baby plant, it lay within its seed upon the ground, just like other baby plants; and when it burst its seed shell, like other plants it sent its roots down into the earth.

But unlike any other plant I know of, it did not send up into the air any seed leaves. The dodder never bears a leaf.

It sent upward a slender golden stem. Soon the stem began to sweep slowly through the air in circles, as if searching for something. Its movements were like those of a blind man who is feeling with his hands for support. And this is just what the plant was doing: it was feeling for support. And it kept up its slow motion till it found the plant which was fitted to give it what it needed.

Having made this discovery, it put out a little root. This root it sent into the juicy stem of its new-found support. And thereafter, from its private store, the unfortunate plant which had been chosen as the dodder’s victim was obliged to give food and drink to its greedy visitor.

And now what does this dodder do, do you suppose? Perhaps you think that at least it has the grace to do a little something for a living, and that it makes its earth root supply it with part of its food.

Nothing of the sort. Once it finds itself firmly rooted in the stem of its victim, it begins to grow vigorously. With every few inches of its growth it sends new roots deep into this stem. And when it feels quite at home, and perfectly sure of its board, it begins to wither away below, where it is joined to its earth root. Soon it breaks off entirely from this, and draws every bit of its nourishment from the plant or plants in which it is rooted.

Now stop a moment and think of the almost wicked intelligence this plant has seemed to show,—how it keeps its hold of the earth till its stem has found the plant which will be compelled to feed it, and how it gives up all pretense of self-support, once it has captured its prey.

You have heard of men and women who do this sort of thing,—who shirk all trouble, and try to live on the work of others; and I fear you know some boys and girls who are not altogether unlike the dodder,—boys and girls who never take any pains if they can possibly help it, who try to have all of the fun and none of the work; but did you ever suppose you would come across a plant that would conduct itself in such a fashion?

Of course, when the dodder happens to fasten itself upon some wild plant, little harm is done. But unfortunately it is very partial to plants that are useful to men, and then we must look upon it as an enemy.

Linen is made from the flax plant, and this flax plant is one of the favorite victims of the dodder. Sometimes it will attack and starve to death whole fields of flax.

But do not let us forget that we happen to be talking about the dodder because it is one of the plants which put out roots above ground.

There is one plant which many of you have seen, that never, at any time of its life, is rooted in the earth, but which feeds always upon the branches of the trees in which it lives.

This plant (Fig. 119) is one of which perhaps you hear and see a good deal at Christmas time. It is an old English custom, at this season, to hang somewhere about the house a mistletoe bough (for the mistletoe is the plant I mean) with the understanding that one is free to steal a kiss from any maiden caught beneath it. And as mistletoe boughs are sold on our street corners and in our shops at Christmas, there has been no difficulty in bringing one to school to-day.

The greenish mistletoe berries are eaten by birds. Often their seeds are dropped by these birds upon the branches of trees. There they hold fast by means of the sticky material with which they are covered. Soon they send out roots which pierce the bark, and, like the roots of the dodder, suck up the juices of the tree, and supply the plant with nourishment.

Then there are water roots as well as earth roots. Some of these water roots are put forth by plants which are nowhere attached to the earth. These are plants which you would not be likely to know about. One of them, the duckweed, is very common in ponds; but it is so tiny that when you have seen a quantity of these duckweeds, perhaps you have never supposed them to be true plants, but rather a green scum floating on the top of the water.

But the duckweed is truly a plant. It has both flower and fruit, although without a distinct stem and leaves; and it sends down into the water its long, hanging roots, which yet do not reach the ground.

There are other plants which have at the same time underground roots and water roots.

Rooted in the earth on the borders of a stream sometimes you see a willow tree which has put out above-ground roots. These hang over the bank and float in the water, apparently with great enjoyment; for roots not only seem to seek the water, but to like it, and to flourish in it.

If you break off at the ground one of your bean plants, and place the slip in a glass of water, you will see for yourselves how readily it sends out new roots.

I have read of a village tree the roots of which had made their way into a water pipe. Here they grew so abundantly that soon the pipe was entirely choked. This rapid, luxuriant growth was supposed to have been caused by the water within the pipe.

So you see there are underground roots and above-ground roots and water roots. Usually, as you know, the underground roots get their food from the earth; but sometimes, as with the Indian pipe, they feed on dead plants, and sometimes, as with the yellow false foxglove, on other living roots.

WHAT FEW CHILDREN KNOW

To-day we must take another look at the plants in the schoolroom garden.

By this time some of them have grown quite tall. Others are just appearing above the earth.

Here is a young morning-glory (Fig. 120). We see that its stem, like that of the bean, was the first thing to come out of the seed. This stem has turned downward into the earth. From its lower end grows the root, which buries itself deeper and deeper.

An older plant shows us that the upper part of the stem straightens itself out and grows upward, bearing with it a pair of leaves (Fig. 121).

From between these starts a tiny bud, that soon unfolds into a fresh leaf, which is carried upward by a new piece of stem.

On the tip of this new piece of stem grows another bud, which also enlarges into a leaf, and in the same way as before is borne upward (Fig. 122).

In this fashion the plant keeps growing bigger and bigger. Soon branches start from the sides of the stem, and later flowers and fruits.

So we see that it is the stem which bears all the other parts of the plant.

Most people think that the plant springs from the root; but you children know better. With your own eyes, here in the schoolroom, you have seen that instead of the stem growing from the root, the root grows from the stem.

That more people have not found this out, is because they do not use their eyes rightly.

Every spring hundreds and thousands of baby plants make their way out of the seed shell into the world, just as you saw the baby bean plant do, sending out first its little stem, which pointed downward into the earth and started a root. And every spring there are hundreds of thousands of men and women, and boys and girls, who go through the woods and fields, and across the parks and along the streets, as though they were blind, taking no notice of the wonders all about them.

PLANTS THAT CANNOT STAND ALONE

Already we have learned that some stems grow under ground, and that by most people these are called roots.

And among those which grow above the ground we see many different kinds.

The stem of Indian corn grows straight up in the air, and needs no help in standing erect.

Fig. 123 shows you the morning-glory plant, the stem of which is unable to hold itself upright without assistance. A great many plants seem to need this same sort of help; and it is very interesting to watch their behavior.

The stem of the young morning-glory sweeps slowly through the air in circles, in search of some support.

You remember that the curious dodder acted in this same way, and that its movements reminded us of the manner in which a blind man feels about him.

When the morning-glory finds just the support it needs, it lays hold of it, and twists about it, and then climbs upward with great satisfaction.

I want you to watch this curious performance. It is sure to amuse you. The plant seems to know so well what it is about, and it acts so sensibly when it finds what it wants.

But if it happens to meet a glass tube, or something too smooth to give it the help it needs, it slips off it, and seems almost as discouraged as a boy would be who fails in his attempt to climb a slippery tree or telegraph pole.

The bean is another plant whose stem is not strong enough to hold it erect without help. But, unlike the morning-glory, the stem of the bean does not twist about the first stick it finds. Instead it sends out many shorter stems which do this work of reaching after and twining about some support. In this same way the pea is able to hold up its head in the world.

Other plants are supported by their leafstalks. These twist about whatever sticks or branches they can find, and so prevent the plant from falling. The picture (Fig. 124) shows you how the garden nightshade climbs by its leafstalk. The beautiful clematis clambers all over the roadside thicket in the same way.

The English ivy and the poison ivy, as we have learned already, climb by the help of roots which their stems send out into the trunks of trees and the crevices of buildings.

The stems of the Virginia creeper and of the Japanese ivy give birth to smaller stems, such as you see in the picture below. When the tips of these reach the wall, or the tree trunk up which the plant is trying to climb, they broaden out into little flat, round plates, which, like tiny claws, cling to the surface (Fig. 125).

I hope your teacher will tell you where you can find one of these two plants, for in the country the creeper is plentiful, and the Japanese ivy is planted freely in our cities; and I hope you will go and see how firmly these little flattened stems cling to the wall or to the tree trunk. Try gently to pull off one of these determined little stems, and I think you will admire it for its firm grip.

There are other than climbing plants whose stems are not strong enough to stand up straight without help.

Think of the beautiful water lily. If you have ever spent a morning in a boat (as I hope you have, for it is a delightful way to spend a morning) hunting water lilies, you will remember that these flowers float on top of the water; and when you reach over to pick them, you find the tall flower stems standing quite erect in the water.

But what happened when you broke them off, and held them in your hand?

Why, these long stems proved to have no strength at all. They flopped over quite as helplessly as the morning-glory vine would do if you unwound it from the wires up which it was climbing; and you saw that they had only been able to stand up straight because of the help the water had given them.

SOME HABITS OF STEMS

Beside the stems which stand erect without help (like that of the corn), and those which climb by means of some support (like those of the morning-glory and bean), and those which are held up by the water (like that of the water lily), there are stems which slant upward (like that of the red clover), stems which lie upon the ground (like that of the snowberry), and stems which creep (that is, which run along the ground), and which strike root, and so give rise to new plants (like those of the white clover and strawberry).

With the new plants you meet, try always to notice to which of these different classes their stems belong; for later, when you wish to use the botany and to learn the names of the plants, this habit of noticing things will help you greatly.

Then, too, with every new plant, you should find out whether its stem is round or square, and whether it is smooth or hairy, or if it is at all thorny.

The thorns and hairs which some plants scatter over their stems protect them from animals and insects, which might otherwise do them an injury.

By the thorns little snails are prevented from climbing up the stems and eating away the green leaves above; and the cows and horses are pretty sure to leave the thorny plants well alone. It is easy to understand why we find thistle plants growing thickly in the pasture, which is nearly bare of everything else. Long ago these thistles clothed themselves in an armor of prickles, and ever since they have been successful in waging war against the cattle.

Sometimes a tree will cover its lower part only with thorns. Why is this, do you suppose?

This is because only the lower branches are within reach of the cattle. Only these have any need of a suit of thorns. The wild pear, which grows in Europe, is such a tree as this.

A stem that is covered with hairs, and also one that is sticky in spots, serves to protect its flowers from an attack by ants, or by other insects that might do them harm; for these flowers, you remember, hold the golden dust which works such wonders when carried to another flower. And you recall, that, when bees go to plants for the sweet stuff from which honey is made, they carry this flower dust from blossom to blossom. But if the sweet stuff is given up to greedy insects, then this good work is not done; for the bees get disgusted, and stop visiting the plants which do not take more pains to please them. And so oftentimes the plant covers its stem with hairs or with sticky drops, so that the meddlesome little thieves cannot get up to the blossom at all.

So if you pick a flower which leaves your fingers sticky, you must remember that the plant is only doing its duty in trying to please the bees.

Although I have seen these plants do so many queer things that I am learning not to be surprised at their clever ways, I must own that I was a little astonished to see how anxious one of them was to save itself unnecessary trouble.

There is a plant called the “amphibious knotweed.” This is a rather difficult name, I know. This word “amphibious” is applied to something that can live both in water and on land; and this plant grows sometimes in the pond or river, and sometimes on the shore.

When on land, its stem is covered with the hairs which serve to keep meddlesome insects from climbing up to its pretty balls of pink flowers. In the water there is no danger of any such attack from insects; and so when it happens to grow in the pond or river, this knowing little plant does not trouble itself to clothe with hairs its stem, but leaves this quite smooth.

Next summer I hope you will hunt up the amphibious knotweed, and will compare the smooth water stem with the hairy one that grows on land.

STEMS AND SEED LEAVES

The smaller plants usually have green stems. The larger ones have brown, woody stems, such as you see in bushes and trees; for the trunk of the biggest tree in the world is nothing but a great stem.

The delicate green stems die down to the ground during the cold winter. Sometimes the whole plant dies, the root below as well as the stem above ground. But often the root (or what we usually call the root) lives, and sends up a fresh stem the next year.

But the woody stems live through the winter, and put out fresh leaves and branches the next spring.

Without a magnifying glass, it is difficult to see of just what the green stems of the small plants are made up; and these you can pass by for the present. But if your teacher will cut across the stem of a large rose, you can see here an outer covering, the green skin; within this, a ring of woody material; and in the center of the stem, a soft white stuff called “pith.”

When we were reading about seed leaves, I told you that by the stem and leaves of a plant you could tell whether it brought into the world more than one seed leaf.

Now, when a stem like that of the rose is divided into three well-defined parts,—the skin, or bark, outside; next the woody part; and the soft white pith in the middle,—then you can be pretty sure that the plant had more than one seed leaf.

This picture (Fig. 126) shows you a section of a cornstalk. Here you do not see the three parts that were so plain in the rose stem, for the woody part is not gathered together in a ring: it is scattered through the soft part, so that you cannot distinguish the one from the other.

Running lengthwise you see the scattered bundles of woody threads, the cut ends of which give the dotted look on top.

Now, such a stem as this of the corn shows you that the plant was born with only one seed leaf.

Try to remember the difference between these two stems.

This next picture (Fig. 127) shows a part of the trunk or stem of the fir tree.

The dark outside circle is the bark.

The rings within this are the wood. Each year one of these woody rings is added to the tree, the last ring of all lying next to the bark; so, if you count these, you can find out how many years the tree has lived.

In the center we see the soft stuff called pith.

What do these three divisions show?

The trunk of the palm in the next picture (Fig. 128) is like the stem of the corn. The wood is not gathered in rings, but is scattered through the soft part in thread-like bundles, so that we cannot tell just the age of the tree.

And what else do you know about the palm?

Why, you know that it came into the world with but one seed leaf. If it had had more than one, its stems would have had woody rings such as we see in the fir.

In the schoolroom you cannot see palms and firs; but you can find a log in a wood pile which will show you just such woody rings as prove that the fir tree had more than one seed leaf.

And you can look at a stalk brought from the cornfield that will show you how the trunk of the palm tells us that this tree began life with only one seed leaf.

“WELL DONE, LITTLE STEM”

It is wonderful how much there is to learn about everything.

We began this book with an apple, and I had no more idea than you that that apple was going to keep us busy for days.

And then the apple reminded us of its cousins, the pear and plum and peach and cherry and rose. And if we had not stopped short, we should have been introduced to so many more cousins that we should have had neither room nor time for anything else.

From fruits we went to seeds.

At first it seemed almost as though we ought to finish up the seeds in two or three readings; but this did not prove to be the case.

The mere naming of the different ways in which seeds went traveling, covered so many pages that it was all we could do to find time to tell how a few of the baby plants were cared for, and how they made their way out of the seed shell into the world.

But when we came to roots, we felt there would be no temptation to loiter by the way, for roots seemed rather dismal things to talk about. Yet it took some little time to show the different uses of a root, and to talk about air roots and water roots, as well as earth roots. It was not altogether easy to make clear just how the little root hairs keep acids on hand in which to melt the solid earth food which their throats are too delicate to swallow. And it was quite a long story when we came to the dodder, which roots in the stems of living plants, and steals all its food from them; and to those orchids whose long roots swing from tree branches and draw their nourishment from the air.

About stems, however, even I felt a little discouraged; for though it is from the stem that all other parts of a plant grow, yet it is not looked upon generally as an interesting object when studied by itself; and I dare say you children still feel that stems are less amusing than fruits, or seeds, or roots.

Still we can hardly help admiring the way in which a stem, when it lies underground, like that of the lily or the Jack-in-the-pulpit, makes its food so carefully all through the summer, and waits so patiently through the long winter in order to help its plant to burst into flower, and to ripen into fruit as soon as possible, and without more labor and food hunting when the spring comes.

When a stem, like that of the morning-glory, sweeps slowly and carefully through the air in search of something to lay hold of in its efforts to climb upward, and when, on finding this support, it makes such good use of it, we feel inclined to say, “Well done, little stem.”

And when a stem on land knows how to keep off meddlers, yet has the wisdom not to take unnecessary trouble when afloat, like that of the amphibious knotweed, then we feel that a plant gives its stem, as well as its other parts, a large supply of common sense.

There is a great deal more that might be said on this subject. What a plant lives on, what it eats and drinks and breathes, is very interesting to learn about. And of course the food taken in by the roots must be carried upward through the stem. But to write simply about this is difficult. As much as I think most of you can understand, I will tell you when we take up leaves.