[Now, isn't that a reply. He glances sidelong at her, quirking his brow.]

That's how nature can be. Adaptations aplenty... [Snip.] But the weakest specimens will always be culled to some degree.

[He nods, though, continuing his work. Perhaps he's the epitome of that, playing gardener for now.]

Sure. Spring's nice; summer's almost too hot, on some days. [Well, for him, anyway.] Not too different from the seasons back home on Earth.