Richard Dawkins on NPR March 30, 2007

Terry Gross interviews Richard Dawkins on his bestseller “The God Delusion.” I have long been a fan of Dawkins’ “The Ancestor’s Tale” even as I am still in the process of reading; it’s a wicked-complicated but thoroughly enjoyable yarn.

I understand where Dawkins is coming from in his assertion that religion and science really are about the same thing. Clearly at least to me, the question of the origins of life have a single correct answer. It’s been wonderfully harmonious to, for a time, compartmentalize the beliefs of religion and the assertions of science as being true in their own realms; it’s highly unlikely that reflects the truth. That’s not to say that God and science cannot coexist, just that neither exists in a vacuum.

Dawkins lays waste to rumors of Einstein’s religious leanings. Conversely, we know that Darwin had come from a place of studying theology before the HMS Beagle. I maintain that neither of those facts has any bearing on either the discussion at hand or the works of each man. And I continue to be slightly uncomfortable with Dawkins’ style: I’m irritated that while he asserts the truth of science, a truth mitigated by empirical evidence and unbiased observations, he is dramatic and condescending. I do not believe this advances his message, which I think otherwise has great merit.

I want to be excited about his message; I believe it’s a compelling argument and important discussion. Time and again, however, I watch his lectures and hear his interviews and am turned off by the often apparent spiteful agenda. This interview on NPR has Dawkins in one of his more diplomatic moods. It’s an enjoyable overview of ‘The God Delusion’.

The link directs to NPR where you can also hear part II of the discussion, an interview with geneticist and evangelical Christian, Francis Collins, director of the National Human Genome Project.

Richard Dawkins Explains ‘The God Delusion’ here.

evolution

Bees & Colony Collapse Disorder March 30, 2007

Mid-Atlantic Apiculture Research and Extension Consortium’s website has excellent resources and information about the ongoing bee disappearance.

Highlights from their FAQ, updated 03/2007:

1. This episode of widespread colony collapse was first reported in November 2006
2. The die off is characterized by few or no remaining bees at the hive
3. Robbing by the usual hive predators is delayed after the bees have disappeared
4. Commercial beekeepers who rent out hives are experiencing the most catastrophic losses at 50-90% of their hives
5. The die off is reported in CA, FL, TX, OK, the mid-Atlantic and the PNW
6. CCD affects adult bees who disappear from the hive leaving capped brood (and sometimes a queen and a handful of workers) in place
7. Food stores are left in place in the hive
8. There are no dead bees in the hive or around it
9. At this time it appears unrelated to Bt crops; link here

They are researching the following potential causes:

• Chemicals
• Unknown pathogen
• Parasite loads
• Nutritional fitness
• Stress Levels
• Genetic Diversity

The link to the full FAQ is here. The MAAREC colony collapse page with more resources is here.

Treehugger March 29, 2007

The first tree I ever loved was Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree. By the end of the story, I was pretty clear that the man was a villain and the tree was elevated to the status of a beloved martyr. I reread the story and hoped each time that he would make better choices, be able to support himself, not make the tree pay for his poor planning. Each time he showed up with his sad story of lack and later his advanced age and desire to be a sailor, I knew the tree would offer itself up again and each time it was my hero, the man my nemesis.

Other things strike me about the book today: how the initials carved into the tree’s trunk stay at the base of the tree. Good job Silverstein: trees grow from the top not the bottom, and mars on a trunk remain at essentially the same height over a tree’s life. And now I wonder what kind of tree it was: Ash maybe? The tree’s identity has always been a function of my favorite tree at the moment. It was a Jacaranda, then a Magnolia. Now I think it might be a Ficus, but that’s me trying to be botanicly accurate.

My second love affair with a tree was in fifth grade. We discovered silk worms in the grass outside our classroom and set our hands to ranching them. They were herded into margarine containers and fed the leaves of the mulberry trees that grew in front of the school. The silkworms interested me greatly, but I also noticed the graceful shape of the leaves that we pulled off and offered to our larval charges. We folded them into tiny booklets and orgami notes to pass in class. Long after the silkworms went on their way (okay fine, they died), I admired the mulberry trees that grew around Westport Elementary. I believed that I alone appreciated their beauty and ability to feed the worms. Perhaps The Giving Tree was a mulberry.

I‘ve loved a number of trees since then, felt a private fondness for them, worried about their wellbeing. For a long time, my infatuation was unmitigated by any real knowledge about them. I didn’t know which ones were which, I knew nothing about their cultural needs. My last love that was cloaked in ignorance was the Jacaranda which grows to majestic heights and profiles in Southern California, blanketing the streets and sidewalks with purple flowers that pop when crushed. They are ethereal sentries in the smoggy city where few old trees persist. I would learn they are also ethereal plumbing and foundation vandals.

At the dawn of my entrance into horticulture, I met a Brachychiton. It grew in the middle of our backyard with a grey, bottle-shaped trunk that shaded into bright green moving up from ground level. In the Spring it set coral colored, trumpet shaped flowers and its maple-like leaves arrived nearly two months later. I remember being confounded by its habit but charmed by its beauty. From the backyard it towered over our tiny house, visible from the street, visible from nearly a block away. From 900 miles away now, I sometimes check Google Maps to see if it’s still there. (It is.)

The things I’ve done for love:

1. Pulled the markers off trees destined for the chipper at a public park
2. Yelled out the window at kids playing too close to the newly planted, whiplike city street trees
3. Watered new street trees on other people’s blocks
4. Bent down in business attire to clear away an overabundance of mulch around a newly planted tree in public space
5. Cautioned construction crews not to cut or compress exposed tree roots
6. Haunted the city arborist during an outbreak of Fusarium in Canary Island Palms
7. Glared at homeowners removing trees
8. Rolled my eyes at landscape clients whose tree selections were overly informed by practicality

Any tree is better than none, but some trees stay with me: the ginkos in autumn at the LA Arboretum, cloaks of shocking yellow above a carpet of blue Senecio; a lone white oak on open savanna; the dark, roomy shelter under a Camperdown elm. I write papers about the metabolic pathways of plant hormones, and that’s awe inspiring to be sure. It’s incredible to sit under a tree and be mindful of the biosynthetic empire within. Perhaps it’s not quite the nirvana of a grove of quaking aspen on a windy day, but it’s close.

Morning Glory Aggravation & Lost Felcos March 29, 2007

I am loathe to admit that while my tulips and clematis are doing fine, once again this year I am confounded by morning glories. The seeds will not germinate. I’ve tried soaking, soaking and scoring, bottom heat, no heat, more water, less water, complete negligence. At first, I asked other people how they got theirs to grow and was met with either a) horror that I would plant such a beast, or b) horror that I was having technical difficulties with them. Or both. It’s quite humiliating. I don’t mind their rude pushy ways, I accept them as they are. It is utterly ridiculous to me that I cannot grow morning glories. This is like failing at marigolds or having a hard time growing mint.

My spirits have taken such a beating in this matter that I cannot get into the weeding and pruning I need to do. You think I’d be motivated by the knowledge that my Felcos are out there in the dirt somewhere and I’m unlikely to discover them again until I do some actual gardening. But come on, I live in the Pacific Northwest – what are the chances they are anything but an oxidized fossil by now?

Cellular Visions: the Inner Life of a Cell March 28, 2007

The music swells, the kinesin sashays, the proteins polymerize. It’s not only educational, it’s beautiful.

The Inner Life of a Cell

New research on auxin transport and PIN-PGP complexes March 28, 2007

The horticulture department at Purdue University led a team of international researchers studying auxin transport and how PIN and PGP proteins work together to direct plant growth.

Auxin is the hormone that signals growth in both roots and shoots. PIN-PGP complexes direct the flow of auxin as it influxes at the apex of a plant cell and effluxes at the basal end. The arrangement of the complexes mechanically directs auxin flow, and the changing concentrations of auxin turn genes on and off locally to initiate shoots and roots.

With greater understanding of these protein complexes, it may be possible to “direct” auxin flow and control root:shoot ratios and engineer plants used for biofuels.

Scientists Pinpoint Proteins That Direct Plant Growth, Development

Kiwi, don’t fail me now March 28, 2007

 

Organic kiwi are producing more polyphenols than their conventionally produced counterparts, which may result in enhanced antioxidant effect in the human body (link).

It brings to mind a frequent discussion in the lab – the main problems I see with GMO foods are twofold: the possible escape of engineered genetic material into wild populations and the possible risk to consumers who eat modified food crops.

On the consumer end, the risk is not likely the modified DNA itself, but the resulting epigenetic changes – modifications in gene expression which can result in new secondary metabolites. Secondary metabolites of plants include terpenes, phenols, and alkaloids like caffeine, morphine, and cocaine; they’re used for signalling and defense. Conceivably then, plants that have been thus far beneficial and innocuous could produce new compounds that are not so benign – they could be toxins, carcinogens, or allergens. They could also be new sources of great pharmaceutical or other economic value.
Annecdotally, someone recently mentioned to me that organically farmed plant material produces higher levels of plant defense chemicals. This premise basically makes sense in that if the plant is protected from pests, it doesn’t need to produce as many defensive compounds. Plants are great at turning on and off genes until the those gene products are needed. However, halfhearted attempts to document this have thus far come up empty, so I’ll keep looking. Certainly I could ask my professors when the new term begins, but I already know the answer, “That sounds like a great project for a thesis or dissertation.” It’s maddening, but I digress.

Back to the kiwi then. Is this new study showing that differences in crop culture can modify gene expression? Another question to which the simple answer is yes, apparently so, but it’s unlikely of course that it’s that easy. I haven’t read the actual study, so I don’t know how it was conducted, what comparisons were made, and how it was controlled. I’m also inclined to want to see the results reproduced, at least once.

Where GMO crops are concerned, and particularly where they are pitted against organic crops, I’m nowhere near formulating an opinion. GMOs make me uncomfortable, but right now we’re just getting a feel for what the questions are, and I think we’re a long way off from the answers.

Ten Magnificent Trees March 28, 2007

Adasonia grandidieri (Baobab)

This link is a tree voyeur’s dream.

Reading March 27, 2007

Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies
Jared Diamond

I picked this up for the agricultural history but was quickly taken with the excellent writing and comprehensive world history from ~13,000 years ago to present.

Flower Confidential
Amy Stewart

This is a look at the floriculture industry in the US, Latin America and Europe. It was eye-opening, and my single complaint is that for as much as the author talked about photo ops, the only photos are at the chapter openings with no descriptive information.