There’s an interesting article in the New Scientist.

The general idea of the article is that eventually, people may be able to tell life bearing planets by their surficial features.  Valley/ridge type of things.

Obviously, this requires water erosion to be effective.  The end idea is that the life of a planet will cause completely different erosion patterns than what you would find on a lifeless surface.

Reading it got me thinking about how often you see trees clinging to hillsides or huddled along ridges and you admire the tree for living where one is so challenged by the local geology.  In most of the Desert Southwest, you’ll see the familiar cedars hanging on for dear life along cliffs, while the cottonwoods, willows, and some grasses hang out in river bottoms or various other water rich flood areas.

Those cliffs are being constantly eaten through a process called floraturbation.  Basically, the roots eat away at the rock and split it with forces unimaginable in our short lives.  The creation of those cliffs is probably largely driven by this process.  The strain rate is low, though.  The roots grow too slowly for anything spectacular to happen.

It also stands to reason that the river bottoms are probably created by some action of the willows, cottonwoods, etc. that spread out in the channels and along the banks.

I don’t know why I never thought about that.

I’m sure all the difference made by the flora is eventually evened out in cool defeat at the hands prodding time, but for a while, it fights and shapes and wins.  And maybe the graveyard planets left long after the life is dead and the water gone are better monuments to the forces of life than a blue planet rich with tectonic erasures and a vibrant eating community of lifeforms.

I’ve seen gravestones hundreds of years old, and abandoned dwellings much older, but have yet to meet anyone much older than a century.

Just one more way for your life to feel inconsequential.