2016: Year in Review

2016 was another busy year at Awkward Botany headquarters. A major highlight was the response I received from the Help Wanted announcement that I posted early last year. Several people expressed interest in writing guest posts, while several others volunteered to help out in other ways (contributing images, illustrations, logos, etc.). The offer still stands, so please be in touch if you would like to contribute in any way.

Speaking of being in touch, the comments I’ve received and the connections I’ve made through social media and beyond really add to the experience of doing this blog. Not only does it make this more of a conversation, but it is greatly motivating to know that people find this to be a valuable and entertaining resource. Thank you to all who have reached out. And thanks to silent observers as well. Let’s stay in touch.

As I have done in the past, I am including a list of some of the posts from this past year, mainly those that are part of ongoing series. Many posts don’t fall within these categories, so all others can be found in the ‘Archives’ widget on the right side of the screen.

Book Reviews:

Poisonous Plants:

Famous Botanists in History:

Drought Tolerant Plants:

Field Trips:

Ethnobotany:

Botany in Popular Culture:

Tiny Plants:

Rare and Endangered Plants

Podcast Review:

Guest Posts:

What Is a Plant, and Why Should I Care? part one, part two, part three, part four

Along with the great guest posts, I also received Awkward Botany logos from three incredible artists/graphic designers. I loved them all, and I am very thankful for the time and talent that was spent creating them. The logos are featured below. In order of appearance they were created by Franz Anthony, Mesquite Cervino, and Mara McCall. If you have an idea for an Awkward Botany logo, please let me know. I would love to see it.

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And now a heads up…

In the coming months I plan to focus most of my posts on “weeds” and invasive species. These are topics that I have found increasingly intriguing, so I am hoping that writing a long series of posts about them will help satisfy my curiosity. This may or may not be your thing, but I hope you will stick around regardless. I plan to continue to include some guest posts, which will hopefully help break up the monotony. Also, I know I said this last year and it didn’t actually happen, but I will most likely be taking some breaks from my weekly publishing schedule in order to work on some other projects. Those projects and more will be revealed at some point in time, along with other ideas I have rolling around in my head. If the thought of me taking breaks from posting here bothers you, I invite you to join me on twitter and tumblr, where I will continue to post random things regularly.

Until then, I wish you all a splendid 2017. It should be an interesting one, so buckle up.

Yucca in the snow at Idaho Botanical Garden in Boise, Idaho

Yucca in the snow at Idaho Botanical Garden in Boise, Idaho

Urban Botanical Art

We live on a green planet, so it is no surprise that plants frequently find their way into our artwork. They make excellent subjects after all; and arguably, botanical art can be a close second (if not a tie) to seeing the real thing.

No place is plant-themed art needed more than in urban areas. Despite trying to cram plants in wherever we can find room, our cities remain dominated by concrete, asphalt, and steel. Plants help soften the hard edges we create, and they reintroduce nature to something that otherwise seems unnatural. But there isn’t always space for plants. Botanical art is the next best thing.

When I’m not looking out for plants, I’m looking out for plant art. What follows are a few of my discoveries this past year in my hometown of Boise, Idaho and beyond. In future travels, I hope to find more botanical art in other urban areas. Meanwhile, please feel free to share with me the botanical art in your neighborhood, either through twitter, tumblr, or some other means.

Parking garage in downtown Boise, Idaho

Parking garage in downtown Boise, Idaho

My dad's mural in downtown Mountain Home, Idaho

Mural by Stephen Murphy (my dad!) in downtown Mountain Home, Idaho

Mural in Freak Alley in downtown Boise, Idaho

Freak Alley Gallery in downtown Boise, Idaho

Mural in Freak Alley in downtown Boise, Idaho

Freak Alley Gallery in downtown Boise, Idaho

Agoseris sculpture at Foothills Learning Center in Boise, Idaho

Aero Agoseris sculpture (Agoseris glauca) at Foothills Learning Center in Boise, Idaho

Stop sign in Sunset Neighborhood in Boise, Idaho

Stop sign in Boise’s Sunset Neighborhood

Stop sign in Sunset Neighborhood in Boise, Idaho

Stop sign in Boise’s Sunset Neighborhood

Utility boxes in downtown Boise, Idaho

Utility boxes in downtown Boise, Idaho

Utility box in Boise, Idaho

Utility box in downtown Boise, Idaho

Maize Anatomy and the Anatomy of a Maze

Commonly known as corn throughout much of North America, maize is a distinctive emblem of the harvest season. It is one of the most economically important crops in the world (the third most important cereal after rice and wheat) and has scads of uses from food to feed to fuel. The story of its domestication serves as a symbol of human ingenuity, and its plasticity in both form and utility is a remarkable example of why plants are so incredible.

The genus Zea is in the grass family (Poaceae) and consists of five species: Z. diploperennis, Z. perennis, Z. luxurians, Z. nicaraguensis, and Z. mays. Maize is the common name of Zea mays subsp. mays, which is one of four Z. mays subspecies and the only domesticated taxon in the genus. All other taxa are commonly and collectively referred to as teosintes.

The domestication of maize, apart from being an impressive feat, has long been a topic of research and a challenging story to tease apart. The current understanding is that maize was first domesticated around 9000 years ago in the Balsas River valley in southern Mexico, the main progenitor being Zea mays subsp. parviglumis. It is astonishing how drastically different in appearance teosintes are from modern day maize, but it also explains why determining the crop wild relative of maize was so difficult.

Teosinte, teosinte-maize hybrid, and maize - photo credit: wikimedia commons

Teosinte, teosinte-maize hybrid, and maize – photo credit: wikimedia commons

Teosintes and maize both have tall central stalks; however, teosintes generally have multiple lateral branches which give them a more shrubby appearance. In teosinte, each of the lateral branches and the central stalk terminate in a cluster of male flowers; female flowers are produced at the nodes along the lateral branches. In maize, male flowers are borne at the top of the central stalk, and lateral branches are replaced by short stems that terminate in female flowers. This is where the ears develop.

Ears – or clusters of fruits – are blatantly different between teosintes and maize. To start with, teosinte produces a mere 5 to 12 fruits along a short, narrow cob (flower stalk). The fruits are angular and surrounded in a hard casing. Maize cobs are considerably larger both in length and girth and are covered in as many as 500 or more fruits (or kernels), which are generally more rounded and have a softer casing. They also remain on the cob when they are ripe, compared to teosinte ears, which shatter.

Evolutionary biologist, Sean B. Carroll, writes in a New York Times article about the amazing task of “transform[ing] a grass with many inconvenient, unwanted features into a high-yielding, easily harvested food crop.” These “early cultivators had to notice among their stands of plants variants in which the nutritious kernels were at least partially exposed, or whose ears held together better, or that had more rows of kernels, and they had to selectively breed them.” Carroll explains that this “initial domestication process which produced the basic maize form” would have taken several hundred to a few thousand years. The maize that we know and love today is a much different plant than its ancestors, and it is still undergoing regular selection for traits that we find desirable.

Female inflorescence (or "ear") of Zea mays subsp. mays - photo credit: wikimedia commons

Female inflorescence (or “ear”) of Zea mays subsp. mays – photo credit: wikimedia commons

To better understand and appreciate this process, it helps to have a basic grasp of maize anatomy. Maize is an impressive grass in that it regularly reaches from 6 to 10 feet tall and sometimes much taller. It is shallow rooted, but is held up by prop or brace roots – adventitious roots that emerge near the base of the main stalk. The stalk is divided into sections called internodes, and at each node a leaf forms. Leaf sheaths wrap around the entirety of the stalk, and leaf blades are long, broad, and alternately arranged. Each leaf has a prominent midrib. The stalk terminates in a many-branched inflorescence called a tassel.

Maize Anatomy 101 - image credit: Canadian Goverment

Maize Anatomy 101 – image credit: Canadian Government

Maize is monoecious, which means that it has separate male and female flowers that occur on the same plant. The tassel is where the male flowers are located. A series of spikelets occur along both the central branch and the lateral branches of the tassel. A spikelet consists of a pair of bracts called glumes, upper and lower lemmas and paleas (which are also bracts), and two simple florets composed of prominent stamens. The tassel produces and sheds tens of thousands of pollen grains which are dispersed by wind and gravity to the female inflorescences below and to neighboring plants.

Female inflorescences (ears) occur at the top of short stems that originate from leaf axils in the midsection of the stalk. Leaves that develop along this reduced stem wrap around the ears forming the husk. Spikelets form in rows along the flower stalk (cob) within the husk. The florets of these spikelets produce long styles that extend beyond the top of the husk. This cluster of styles is known as the silk. When pollen grains land on silk stigmas, pollen tubes grow down the entire length of the silks to reach the embryo sac. Successful fertilization produces a kernel.

The kernel – or fruit – is known botanically as a caryopsis, which is the standard fruit type of the grass family. Because the fruit wall and seed are fused together so tightly, maize kernels are commonly referred to as seeds. The entire plant can be used to produce feed for animals, but it is the kernel that is generally consumed (in innumerable ways) by humans.

There is so much more to be said about maize. It’s a lot to take in. Rather than delve too much further at this point, let’s explore one of the other ways that maize is used by humans to create something that has become another feature of the fall season – the corn maze.

Entering the corn maze at The Farmstead in Meridian, Idaho

Exploring the corn maze at The Farmstead in Meridian, Idaho

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Related Posts:

Field Trip: Mud Springs Ridge and Cow Creek Saddle

Last weekend I went on two all day field trips that were part of Idaho Native Plant Society‘s annual meeting. The second field trip was in a location with a climate considerably warmer and drier than the first field trip. The flora was much more familiar to me since it was similar to what I generally see in southern Idaho. We visited two sites: Mud Springs Ridge and Cow Creek Saddle. Both are high on a mountain ridge (around 5300 feet in elevation) flanked by the Salmon River canyon on the east and the Snake River canyon on the west. The tiny town of Lucile, Idaho was just below us to the east, and if we would have continued down the other side of the mountain, we would have arrived at Hells Canyon National Recreation Area. These sites are high elevation grasslands, and there was a huge diversity of grasses and forbs to explore.

Taking decent photos of the plants was a challenge as the sun was shining brightly and there was a constant breeze. Photographs don’t quite cut it anyway. The views were incredible. Standing on a ridge top peering across a meadow full of wildflowers with more mountains in the distance. Mass amounts of lupines and paintbrushes mixed with grasses and other plants being tossed about in the breeze. Little rock gardens randomly dispersed across the hillsides. You kind of had to be there.

A view across the meadow at Mud Springs Ridge

A view across the meadow at Mud Springs Ridge

Searching for Silene spaldingii - an Idaho endemic - on the mountainside

Fellow botany geeks searching for Silene spaldingii (Spalding’s catchfly) – a rare, imperiled plant species

Gnarly, old curl-leaf mountain mahogany (Cercocarpus ledifolius) growing out of a rock outcrop

Gnarly, old Cercocapus ledifolius (curl-leaf mountain mahogany) growing out of a rock outcrop

Close up of Cercocarpus ledifolius

Cercocarpus ledifolius (curl-leaf mountain mahogany)

Orthocarpus tenuifolius (owl's clover)

Orthocarpus tenuifolius (thin-leaved owl’s clover)

Castilleja (indian paintbrush)

Castilleja hispida (harsh paintbrush)

Castilleja cusickii (Cusick's paintbrush)

Castilleja cusickii (Cusick’s paintbrush)

Lewissia columbiana v. wallowaensis

Lewisia columbiana var. wallowensis (Wallowa lewisia)

Lewissia columbiana v. wallowaensis

Lewisia columbiana var. wallowensis (Wallowa lewisia)

Erigeron

Erigeron davisii (Davis’ fleabane)

On cow creek saddle looking towards Salmon River canyon

On Cow Creek Saddle looking towards Salmon River canyon

On cow creek saddle looking towards Snake River canyon

On Cow Creek Saddle looking towards Snake River canyon

The field trips were incredible, and the annual meeting in general was a lot of fun. If you have a native plant society in your neck of the woods and you are not already a member, I highly recommend checking it out. Now, where to next?

Field Trip: Coolwater Ridge Lookout

I spent this past weekend camping with friends near Grangeville, Idaho. I was attending the annual meeting of the Idaho Native Plant Society. Meetings in the boring sense of the word occurred, but they were brief. The bulk of the weekend consisted of long hikes on guided field trips. This post is a pictorial tour of a small fraction of the plants I saw on the Coolwater Ridge Lookout trail which is located in the Bitterroot Mountains  – my first of two all-day field trips. From where we were hiking we could look down at the canyon where the Selway River was fixing to meet the Lochsa River to form the middle fork of the Clearwater River. This is a part of Idaho that is basically too beautiful for words. At some point I will have more to say about this particular location, but for now here are a handful of semi-decent photos I took while on the hike.

A view from Coolwater Ridge Lookout trail. Looking down at the Selway River Canyon.

A view from Coolwater Ridge. Looking down at the Selway River canyon.

Erythronium grandiflorum - yellow glacier lily

Erythronium grandiflorum – yellow glacier lily

Leptosiphon nuttallii - Nuttall's linanthus

Leptosiphon nuttallii – Nuttall’s linanthus

Polemonium pulcherrimum - Jacob's-ladder

Polemonium pulcherrimum – Jacob’s-ladder

A view from the ridge. Looking down at the Selway River Canyon.

Sambucus racemosa – red elderberry

Phlox diffua - spreading phlox

Phlox diffusa – spreading phlox

Ribes viscosissimum - sticky currant

Ribes viscosissimum – sticky currant

Senecio integerrimus var. exaltatutus - Columbia groundsel

Senecio integerrimus var. exaltatutus – Columbia groundsel

Synthyris platycarpa - kittentails

Synthyris platycarpa – Idaho kittentails

Vaccinium scoparium - whortleberry

Vaccinium scoparium – grouse whortleberry

Viola glabella - pioneer violet

Viola glabella – pioneer violet

Cheilanthes feei - Fee's lipfern

Cheilanthes feei – Fee’s lipfern

Stay tuned for photos from the second of two field trips. In the meantime, go outside and see some nature.

Vines for Spring

I’m taking a break from writing a regular post this time around. It’s the first week of spring, and there is a lot going on. I hope you are getting outside and enjoying the warmer weather (at least those of you in the northern hemisphere anyway). It was a pretty mild winter in my neck of the woods, but that doesn’t diminish my excitement when I see plants start to flower and leaf out. The gray days of winter are largely behind us, and holing up in my cave of an apartment is suddenly less appealing.

What I have for you this week are some short video clips. I recently joined Vine, a short-form, video-sharing social media site where each post is a six second, looped video. I’m late to the scene as usual, but I’ve been having fun messing around with it. The following videos are some of my first attempts (and lousy ones at that); if I decide to stick with it you can expect better content. If you’re interested in this sort of thing, please join, follow, favorite, share, like, comment, etc. Regardless, I hope you will find time to pry yourself away from a screen and experience nature during this beautiful and singular time of year.

 

 

 

 

Awkward Botany is also on Twitter and Tumblr, so feel free to follow me there too if you would like. Happy Spring!

The Moon Trees

On January 31, 1971, Apollo 14 left Earth and headed for the Moon. It was the eighth manned Apollo mission and the third to land on the Moon. On board were three astronauts – Alan Shepard, Edgar Mitchell, and Stuart Roosa. Joining the astronauts were about 500 tree seeds that were given to Roosa by Ed Cliff, the Chief of the Forest Service at the time. While Shepard and Mitchell explored the surface of the Moon, Roosa and the seeds hovered above it in the spacecraft. After Shepard had hit a couple of golf balls and Roosa had circled the Moon 34 times, the crew rejoined and headed back to Earth.

Roosa’s collection of tree seeds consisted of 5 species – Douglas fir, redwood, loblolly pine, sycamore, and sweetgum. Upon returning to Earth, Roosa handed the seeds back over to the Forest Service. They were then planted at Forest Service stations in Mississippi and California. Some of the seedlings were planted adjacent to trees grown from seeds that had remained on Earth in order to conduct a comparison study. The other seedlings were available for dissemination.

Official Moon Tree Emblem

Official Moon Tree Emblem

Around this time (1976-77), America was celebrating its bicentennial, so many of the trees were planted in commemoration of this event. A loblolly pine was planted at the White House. A sycamore was planted in Washington Square in Philadelphia. Valley Forge got a Moon Tree, and so did Brazil, Japan, and Switzerland. Moon Trees were planted at various parks and institutions in many states throughout the country. In fact, there were so many requests for Moon Trees that several rooted cuttings of the original seedlings had to be produced.

Unfortunately, in the frenzy of shipping out Moon Trees, a complete record of where and when the trees were planted was not maintained, and so it remains unclear where all the trees are today and how many of them are surviving. When NASA employee, Dave Williams, became aware of Moon Trees, he embarked on a quest to compile a list of them. His webpage contains the short list of trees he has been able to confirm and document so far.

According to Williams’ list, Idaho received two Moon Trees. A sycamore was planted at University of Idaho in Moscow, and a loblolly pine was planted at Lowell Elementary in Boise. The sycamore perished sometime within the last decade. The loblolly pine remains…but perhaps not for long.

Loblolly pine (Pinus taeda) at Lowell Elementary in Boise, Idaho - one of many Moon Trees planted in the late 1970's.

Loblolly pine (Pinus taeda) at Lowell Elementary in Boise, Idaho – one of many Moon Trees planted in the 1970’s.

And this is how I came to learn about Moon Trees. This fall, local news reported on efforts being made to save Boise’s Moon Tree. The soil around it is compacted, it’s not getting enough water, and it has become infested with a pest insect. When community members learned of its potential demise, they resolved to save it. Money was raised to pay for the water it requires, and a local tree company volunteered to assist with necessary treatments. Its future remains uncertain; however, this renewed awareness and attention may be just what it needs to survive.

Upon learning about Boise’s Moon Tree, I decided to pay it a visit. After all, not only is it in my hometown, but it is also in my neighborhood, just a short walk from my house. It was pretty obvious right away which tree was the Moon Tree as its trunk is completely covered in oozing sap – a sure sign of infection. It is also located in a spot that doesn’t appear to be receiving any supplemental irrigation. The stresses caused by compacted soil and dehydration left it vulnerable to attack.

But maybe it wasn’t the best tree for the site to begin with. Loblolly pine (Pinus taeda) is native to the southeastern United States where it is commonly found growing in acidic, wet soils – a stark contrast to the dry, alkaline soils of the Treasure Valley. Still, it is Idaho’s only known remaining Moon Tree – a tree whose seed went to space, circled the moon, and was brought back to Earth where it was planted in celebration of the 200th anniversary of this nation. It is worth saving, with the hope being that it will inspire not only a connection to the natural world but also to the broader universe which all living beings call home.

Read more about Moon Trees:

Houston, We Have Moon Trees

A Race Against Time to Find Apollo 14’s Lost Voyagers

In Search of Moon Trees