In Memoriam: Dr. John Lott 1943-2014

This morning I received (OK, actually last night, but I didn't open it until this morning) an e-mail from my Alma Mater, McMaster University, about their new Department of Biology Alum newsletter. "What a great idea!" I thought. A way to catch up on what's been happening in the department since I graduated, which wasn't actually all that long ago, and to keep up to date for years to come. "I wonder if they ever did the Life Sciences Building reno and expansion? This newsletter should talk about it! Yay!" I thought. Instead, on page 2, I got quite a shock: my favourite professor from my undergraduate degree and arguably the single entity in my life that has directed me down the path I'm now taking, passed away earlier this year. Let's back up a bit...

Back when I started my undergrad degree at Mac, there was one really, REALLY annoying prerequisite for all students registered in a Biology program (didn't matter what program you were in, everyone took the same four courses in second year mixed with any other courses you wanted as electives to fill the gaps): Plant Biodiversity. UGH. I seriously HAVE to learn about plants?! You're kidding. Well, I guess all I have to do is pass. Preferably do more than pass, but that's a bare minimum. KILL ME if I have to do this a second time. Stupid plants. As you can see...I was pretty naive about the plant kingdom before this class started. Off I go to class on the first day, dreading that it's going to be just the. worst. thing. ever. In walks this medium-height older man, very pleasant-looking, kinda reminds me of that stereotypical grandfather image. Wearing a sweater-vest over a dress shirt, tie under his vest, glasses, balding on the top, hair that he has left is grey, carrying a leather briefcase built in 1964 (interestingly, the same year his car was built...but I'll save that for later). Dr. Lott introduced himself, and then promptly walked out the back door onto the loading dock. Huh? Well...that was a quick class. None of us were quite sure what to do (the overhead projector was still on, of course, so it didn't look like we should leave...), so we just sat there looking at each other. He walks back into the room carrying the stalk of this GINORMOUS plant that he grew in his garden over the summer, wearing gloves, and waiving it around. He told us a bit about the plant, a little snapshot of what we would learn about in the course, without ever mentioning the name and then went back outside and put it down (where his wife was guarding it, as we later learned). Then he comes back into the room, still wearing gloves, and takes some petri dishes out of his briefcase. Takes the lid off of each of them, and offers them to the students in the front row (note to self: sit in the front row next class). He asks the guy sitting on the end in the 2nd row to go up to the board and tally the votes for left hand vs. right hand so the class can keep track of the voting (of course, guy in the second row IMMEDIATELY jumps out of his chair. There is no crossing Dr. Lott...he might give you the general reminder of your grandpa, but there's also this unmistakable "do not mess with this man" feeling as well). Dr. Lott then told the class that one petri dish of seeds (apparently they were seeds! See? Sit in the front row!) came from the gigantic plant he just showed us, while the other came from the grocery store. The question: which one would you eat? He went from student to student in the front row, who looked in each dish and chose either the one on the left or the one on the right. The vote: 18-2 for the seeds on the left. The verdict: 18 people would be dead. And that, friends, is why taxonomy and plant identification is important.

You'd better believe I was hooked from that day forward.

The second (and only other course he taught) course I took with Dr. Lott was when I was in fourth year and it was about plant cell ultrastructure, and we learned a whole lot about plant cell organelles, how they work, and what happens when things go wrong. The other cool thing we got to do (well, novelty factor at the time) was use different types of microscopes to document different levels of plant organization. I got to use a Transmission Electron Microscope (TEM) to photograph a dividing onion root tip cell, and a radish cell to photograph the Golgi apparatus. Then a Scanning Electron Microscope (SEM) to photograph a "textured plant organ" that we brought in from home. I chose the leaf of one of my begonia plants in my window in residence because it had a lot of surface hairs and an acorn cap I found on the ground on campus. After that we learned all about the organization of tissues in the plant, and we got to take a panel of pictures that would be representative of the plant section that we were given using a regular light microscope. My partner Christine and I were given a plant stem, so I had to photograph 6 different views at different magnifications to give a representative panel of what we were looking at and any unique features. Things like how the vascular system is arranged in the stem, an individual vascular bundle, unique or unusual cells we found while scanning around, etc. I still have all of these pictures framed and hanging on my wall at home, 8 years later. This course was a novelty to me because who still uses microscopes these days?! I mean...come on. The TEM and SEM were fun because they were multi-million dollar machines, but seriously?! A light microscope? Come on. No one uses those still to see anything except undergrads in first year biology labs. Pfft. Spoiler alert: 75% of the data obtained for my PhD has come from...a light microscope. If it wasn't for that course, I would have been totally, completely, hopelessly lost the first time my supervisor asked me to prepare a slide.

One more story: Dr. Lott's car. One day during that plant cell ultrastructure course, Dr. Lott comes in looking somewhat visibly distraught. Someone in the class asked him what was wrong, and he said that the day had finally come to replace his car and he was not looking forward to it. We got him to talk a bit about his car; turns out it was a 1960-something (pretty sure it was a '64, but my memory might be playing tricks on me) Cadillac. Yep, that's one old car. A lovely car, but an old car. He decided that because Cadillac was so good to him for 40 years, he should buy another. So he went to his local Cadillac dealer to take a look at what they have. He decides on a car to test-drive, the guy at the dealership gets the demo car ready for him, and he drives it around the block a couple of times. Likes it. Buys it. Then gets told about all of the fancy features that come with the car...and that's where he starts to panic a bit. Something to keep in mind about Dr. Lott: he was so very old-school. When he taught, he used: a) posters, b) the chalk board, and c) overhead slides. When he had to submit his grades to the department, he typed them up on his electronic typewriter and gave them to the departmental secretary (who didn't have the heart to tell him that's not the kind of "typed grades" they meant). If he had to give a presentation at a conference, he had one of his students put together a powerpoint for him and teach him how to use the buttons. Why is this relevant? The guy at the dealership told him there were computers in his new car that would ensure it was running smoothly, and would send e-mails to his home if something needed checking by the service department (he was, I think, describing the OnStar system to him). A man who had essentially never touched a computer in his life now had MULTIPLE computers in his car. He was most concerned about how long he had to wait for Windows to boot. In class we (I use "we" loosely...I have no idea how computers in a car work, but other people in the room definitely did) explained to him that it wasn't a personal computer and that there was no waiting for Windows to boot before he could drive. I think he was relieved. A few weeks later we asked him how he liked his new car and he went on for almost half the class about how much he loved it. He was happy, and I guess that's all that mattered in the end!

So this blog is about plants...right.

That very first plant that I learned about in Biology 2D03 "Plant Biodiversity" at McMaster University? The castor bean plant. I learned that not everything should be touched before you know what it is ("look with your eyes, not your hands!"), that plants can kill you if you're not careful, that many of our medicines come from plants, and that plant identification is an important skill. What I didn't realize until much later was that this plant was near and dear to Dr. Lott's heart because that was where he spent a major portion of his career: examining the different elements and compounds present in castor bean seeds. He grew some of his "experimental populations" for seeds in his back yard, looking at how different varieties reacted under different growing conditions. Castor bean plants have, since then, always held a special place in my heart and brain. So I present, in memory of Dr. Lott: a blog about the castor bean plant.

Species name: Ricinus communis

Common name: Castor bean plant, castor oil plant

Location: pictures 1-3 from Xenomorph on Dave's Garden (available HERE), picture 4 from ineedacupoftea on Dave's Garden (available HERE), and picture 5 from zest on Dave's Garden (available HERE)

The castor bean plant isn't a bean at all. It's in the Euphorb or the spurge family, which explains the white, milky latex that exudes from wounds in the plant stem and leaves (nearly all members of this family do this; in fact, I can't think of a single plant in this family that doesn't but I'm sure they exist). In many species this latex is toxic, and this plant is no exception. The castor bean plant is native to the Mediterranean basin in Europe and northern Africa, but is now widespread around the world as an ornamental species. In North America it does quite well, but our cold winters here in Ontario kill the plant during the winter. A bit further south, where the winter isn't as severe, this plant could set seed and the seeds would produce a new generation the next year. As you can imagine, this does pose a problem if it does get away, and may become invasive in some areas in the southern United States.

The castor bean plant is a "superplant" when it comes to the growth it is capable of within a single growing year. The plant in the fourth photograph above is of a full-grown adult male (the picture caption by the photographer says he's 5'10"), and a castor bean plant that was planted from seed in May of that year (the picture was taken on November 1st). A single growing season, and the plant is nearly three times his height. This isn't unusual, nor is it even remarkable as far as this species goes...that's a "day in the life of a castor bean plant". What is remarkable is that it can grow even taller than that under optimal conditions; as much as 39 feet in a single growing season. As yourself how many other plants you've ever seen grow THIRTY NINE FEET in only 7 months. That's insane. Insane! The lower leaves on this plant would be absolutely enormous, and if they didn't contain skin-irritating latex they would make excellent impromptu umbrellas if you ever get caught in the rain.

No matter what anyone tells you, this plant is incredibly dangerous and should absolutely be respected should you ever come across it. In fact, in 2007 the Guinness Book of World Records named this plant the "Most Toxic Plant in the World". The latex produced from the plant itself is pretty benign, but if you have sensitive skin you will definitely want to cover up before coming into contact with the plant. Burning it is also not a good idea; the smoke can irritate the eyes and lungs, and in those with sensitivities can cause severe allergic reactions. There are neurotoxic compounds in the latex, but you would have to be exposed in great quantity in order for this to be a real health risk (farm workers harvesting this plant for oil in India and Brazil, the world's two largest growers of the castor bean plant, are at great risk). That in itself would be a good reason to keep kids away from it, but if that's not enough then here's one more reason: four measly seeds (each one about 1 cm across) is enough to kill an adult human. The seed coats are incredibly toxic, as is the layer of "bean" (the cotyledons of the plant, or the seed and storage leaves) directly under the seed coat. Peeling this off is not enough to completely get rid of these toxic chemicals; they are also present in the seed itself in lower concentrations. The toxin in this plant is probably the reason why the Latin name sounds so familiar to you, even if you've never come in contact with this plant before: this is where we get ricin. If seeds are consumed, the progression to death caused by ricin doesn't sound very pleasant: vomiting, bloody diarrhea, seizures, severe dehydration, confusion, delirium, extreme sweating, burning of the mouth and throat, severe abdominal pain, and a racing heartbeat. The symptoms don't start until about 36 hours after ingestion (except in very high concentrations of pure ricin extract, where the onset is 2-4 hours after ingestion), and can last up to ONE WEEK before death. A whole week! Don't mess with this plant. Seriously.

All that being said, there is still some serious promise for this plant's use in medicine. Alcohol extracts from the leaves and seeds (a method of extraction that does not select for ricin) has shown promise in treating bacterial and fungal infections, protecting the liver against various toxins, as an antihistamine, an anti-asthmatic, and has anti-inflammatory properties. Not too shabby if you ask me! It also has shown some promise as an analgesic, but it's difficult to determine if the pain relief comes from the paralysis of the central nervous system that arises from poisoning from this plant, or if it's a stand-alone effect. Much, much more research is needed before we ever take capsules of castor bean extract!

Castor oil is an important plant extract used in a huge variety of ways. It is a great lubricating oil, and has been used in combustion engines since the First World War. It is currently used in cosmetics, as a biodiesel fuel, and in its processed form in the chocolate industry as a substitute for cocoa butter (a use for this plant that will likely drastically increase over time with the ever-increasing cost of cocoa). There are also many medicinal uses of castor oil, which no longer contains the ricin once present in the seeds (when the oil is heated to its boiling point, the ricin protein is denatured and is no longer toxic). It can be used as a laxative, showing that it is indeed still toxic to some extent or else your body wouldn't be trying so hard to get rid of it! There are some claims that rubbing castor oil on your skin can cure cancer, but this is a load of rubbish. It has never been shown to have any effect on tumor size in any kind of animal (or even cell line) study. Don't fall for this stuff!

Moral of the story: castor bean plants might look pretty (their seed pods are pretty spectacular!), but they can be very, very dangerous plants. Be careful with them if you grow them!

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Earlier this year, McMaster published a tribute to Dr. Lott on their Department of Biology website. You can read all about Dr. Lott and his accomplishments HERE if you'd like. My favourite part is at the very end, where they talk about his philosophy towards students:

"Students had a special place in John’s attitude to the responsibility of teaching – and mentoring – and drawing out the best a student had to offer – which he achieved by his patient and warm encouragement and by the implicit understanding John showed, that students were not different – only younger and a little less experienced."

Thanks for the memories, Dr. Lott. You have helped create who I am today and showed me that those "boring green things" not only had value in my life, but were actually incredibly cool. Your philosophy towards teaching is something I have adopted in my own teaching style, and now every time I look up at my TEM photographs of my root cell in mitosis, I'll have even more fond memories of my time in your classes.

The creeping vine from Virginia

Species name: Parthenocissus quinquefolia

Common name: Virginia creeper

Location: Western University campus

As promised in my last blog, this post is about the "other" common vine with blackish-blue berries common, and native, to this area: Virginia creeper. Many people are actually surprised to learn that this species is native, as we don't often associate native species as being potentially invasive species. Anyone who has ever grown Virginia creeper in their garden under ideal conditions knows it will absolutely explode in growth and smother out anything in its path; a rather unfortunate characteristic since I like to encourage gardening with native species! Fortunately, Virginia creeper isn't as vigorous as grower as periwinkle or kudzu, so when you go to bed one night and wake up the next morning your house won't be covered in it (that has never actually happened, but at times it sure feels like both of those plants could grow that fast). The Virginia creeper vine is native to eastern North America, and its native range extends from Quebec and Ontario south to Texas and Alabama. There's a bit of an argument about whether or not its native range is also extending into northeastern Mexico (a few botanists believe it to be either introduced or a different species, depending on who you ask).

Virginia creeper is one of the banes of my existence because it doesn't follow the rules set out by its Latin name. The species epithet "quinquefolia" refers to its five leaflets, all originating from the same point on the petiole which is referred to as a palmately compound leaf. Unfortunately, no one told the Virginia creeper that it had five leaflets originating from a common point on the petiole. When young, sometimes the leaves only produce three leaflets (called a trifolate leaf). This is all fine and dandy, except what other plant might you know about that produces three leaflets from a common point, with the same general leaflet shape as Virginia creeper, and can also grow as a smothering vine along tree trunks? That's right, poison ivy. If you don't want to get mistaken for poison ivy, don't go looking like poison ivy! Geez. There have been a few times I've been out in forests where I could have SWORN that what my supervisor was grabbing onto to push out of the way was poison ivy, but turns out he knew it was only an abnormal Virginia creeper vine. Better to be safe than sorry I think, so I steer clear. Based on the skin sensitivity I display towards other stinging or itchy things (plant or animal-based), I would probably blow up like a balloon if I got the two confused. Keep trifolate leaves away from me and I'm a happy camper :)

All of that being said, Virginia creeper can be a nasty plant in its own right. The whole plant contains oxalic acid, which can be a very potent skin irritant to some people (and those with sensitive skin to other plant-based toxins, especially rhubarb juice, are most likely to be affected). The berries also contain very high levels of oxalic acid and so should not be eaten. Rarely will they cause any type of major problem other than intense intestinal discomfort, but if children confuse them for grapes and eat a lot of them there could be severe consequences. The oxalic acid crystals are sharp enough to perforate mucous membranes, and so severe internal bleeding can result after ingesting significant amounts. As with many toxic plants, a hot-water infusion made from the fruits (most of the time, but sometimes also the leaves) of this plant were used by Native North Americans as a treatment for heart conditions, diarrhea, prostate disease (or other diseases or disorders that might cause difficulty or painful urination), and joint swelling due to (most often) rheumatoid arthritis. No clinical trials have ever been set up to determine if the plant can be effective against any of these conditions, but the possibility is there.

Aside from its traditional medicinal use, this plant is becoming more and more popular as a garden ornamental species. It is very successful in full sun, and does a great job of climbing up buildings to act as insulation from the sun (and so is especially successful on south-facing walls). Fortunately for homeowners using this plant in landscaping, it (like Boston Ivy but unlike English Ivy) produces sticky knobs to attach itself to a substrate (like your brick wall on your house). English Ivy, that nasty little vine, produces penetrating roots that worm their way right into the mortar between the bricks in order to anchor itself. This means that Virginia creeper is a much less destructive plant to grow on the side of your house. There's always a catch to all things that sound to good to be true, isn't there?! The catch for this plant is that removing adhesive knobs can still be quite a labour-intensive process because pulling the live plant from the wall will still rip out small pieces of brick and mortar along with the adhesive knobs. If, however, you cut the plant at the base (either at ground-level for complete removal or just a branch here and there for trimming purposes) and let the plant wither and die on the house, it can be removed once brown with no damage at all (the adhesive knobs have to be alive to be adhesive!). It's like magic! The only downside is that Virginia creeper vines do lose their leaves in the fall (but not before turning a BRILLIANT shade of red first), so you don't get the same kind of winter insulation as you do with English ivy. But for the cost of having to re-brick the side of your house...I think the substitution is worth it!

Wine? Wine not!

Species name: Vitis riparia

Common name: riverbank grape

Location: Western University campus

The riverbank grape is one of our great native vine species (the other major native eastern North American species to be featured in the next blog, Virginia creeper). It is a very vigorous grower, capable of growing up to the top of a riparian forest tree canopy (not nearly as tall as a "normal" tree canopy of a forest, since trees that live in riparian, or riverbank, areas don't tend to be able to grow as tall). In the southern areas of its native range it can be a real pest species, but here in Ontario other native species are pretty good at competing with it. Some trees have a harder time than others, but non-native species have an especially difficult time with the smothering tendencies this species sometimes has. That being said, as soon as it is transplanted, either naturally via bird poop (the most common animal vector) or "artificially" via human transplantation, into an area of lowland or upland forest the forest canopy can really suffer as a result. It is remarkably good at smothering new saplings before they have a chance to grow tall enough to escape it, and some forests are so thick with grape vines they're impassable. A great example of a species that grows well in harmony with other species in its native habitat, but can become a real pest, even in its native range, if introduced beyond those limits.

The riverbank grape has a bit of a bad rap in Ontario and the northeastern United States, but that perception seems to be changing a bit. In the 1940s and 1950s, the US government (the Canadian government quickly followed suit) decided that riverbank grape vines were a forest pest and that this species should be eradicated. There had been a lot of accidental introductions of this species into areas important in the logging and lumber trade, and if you're allowing a vine to smother your profits you're not a very good businessperson! So instead of just local eradication programs, these programs were carried out across the United States and into Ontario and Quebec, and whenever a riverbank grape vine was seen in a forest (either riparian area or otherwise) it was sprayed with very toxic herbicides. This was very effective at killing the vines, but also equally effective in killing all of the surrounding vegetation and poisoning the soil (both for soil microbes, very important in forest health, but also making it inhospitable to new seedlings). Unfortunately, it was far too late before anyone realized what was happening, so you still find "dead zones" where mature trees escaped the soil poisoning by having a root system vast enough to support itself with un-poisoned soil, but the understory species are completely missing. I have a rather personal connection to riverbank grape, because one of the species of fungi that I study for my PhD grows exclusively on grape vine in North America. Unfortunately, there's a catch (as there always seems to be with rules regarding where fungi are most likely to be found): it only grows on mature, living or dead grape vine. This means that any suitable habitat that might have been in forest ecosystems in the 1800s when a lot of the work was being done on the fungal flora of North America no longer exists for this species. For this reason, it was collected three times in the 1880s by great, now long-dead, mycologists only to never be recorded ever again. Have these species gone extinct because of our destruction of their host species? No one, including myself, knows that for sure. Since the 1930s there has been a lack of concerted effort to document the diversity of forest species, only re-invigorated in the early 2000s. What I can say is that for the last 6 years whenever I'm in a forest where there's grape vine I look for it...and haven't found it yet. Perhaps I'm not looking in the right spot, or perhaps it doesn't exist anymore. I'll let you know in 20 years when I either find it or give up looking. ;) This idea of "disappearing species" is not unique in mycology; there are also a lot of plant species that were discovered during the times of the Great World Explorers (as I like to call them) that have never been found again. Part of the problem stems from the lack of location data for the collections--how do I know where "Aunt Edna's House, near the south greenhouse but past the wood pile, 5 minutes from the beach" is?! Sure, maybe EVERYONE in 1872 knew where Aunt Edna's house was...but it's long gone by now. You don't realize just how useful GPS coordinates are until you have to figure out something like that!

Anyway, back on topic...

Riverbank grape fruits are reportedly edible, and were also reportedly an important food source in the summer for early settlers in North America. Now, I'm guessing that tastes have progressed a bit since those times, or perhaps they were much less picky eaters than we are now (or maybe a bit of both). Have you ever tried a grape from a wild grape vine? They are TERRIBLE. I wasn't expecting a sweet grape when I tried one, but holy jeez. This was...terrible. That's the only way I can describe it. It was gooey and had the most awful texture on the planet (almost like jello on the inside), plus one of the most sour fruits I've ever had in my life (puts the Cornelian cherry to shame, which you can read all about HERE, and I often eat lemons for fun...so that tells you something about my tolerance for "sour"). My friend Tanya convinced me to try one when we were out geocaching one afternoon, and I could taste the lingering "lip-puckering sour" in my mouth for hours. That's the last time I ever listen to Tanya. Ha.

Sure, the grapes don't taste that great and the plant isn't all that much to look at (although, I personally really love the shape of their leaves and the cute little curving tendrils that are most visible during the winter and early spring), riverbank grape is one of the single most important "novelty agriculture species" that we have in North America. I call them an agricultural novelty not because their use is new, but because the product we get from them is certainly not necessary for everyday life (some people might argue with me on that one; we'll agree to disagree) nor has it ever been. Wild grape vines are VERY tolerant to winter conditions in North America, which can be incredibly harsh, especially in the ground. Traditional wine grape vines, of the species Vitis vinifera, don't have a very cold hardy root system, and are prone to freezing damage in northern climates. For this reason, riverbank grape rootstock is often grafted onto a wine grape scion (or "top") for commercial grape production for the wine industry. Once grapevine producers were experts in the creation of natural hybrids, they started experimenting with different varieties of V. vinifera as well as V. riparia to make more cold-tolerant grape vines, but with the same commercial qualities of traditional wine grapes. Another major benefit is that the resulting hybrid is much more resistant to common fungal diseases encountered on grape vines. Eventually what was obtained were varieties that were genetically 50-80% wine grapes, and 20-50% riverbank grape. Baco Noir, Marchel Foch (sometimes called Marechal Foch) and Frontenac grapes are all hybrids between these two species, and produce some of the best wine in the world. Isn't it amazing what a little traditional plant breeding can do?! Cheers to grapes.

Traditional uses by Aboriginal North Americans are also numerous; they are used as a food (although, I'm guessing in small numbers), to make jellies and jams, and to produce a type of traditional North American wine. From what I understand, this wine is really unpleasant when compared to wine from a "real" winery, but it really packs a punch: it has 2-3 times the alcohol content of a traditional wine. Maybe it's alcoholic enough you don't realize how terrible it is! Not commercially sold, but every so often you might be able to find some courtesy of a backyard brewer. Let me know how it is, if you get a chance to try it.

Burr it's cold!

Species name: Arctium sp. (probably Arctium lappa)

Common name: burdock (probably greater burdock)

Location: Western University Campus, London, Ontario

I decided to start this year off with a bang, or a burr if you will, using a blog post with lots of pretty pictures. :) Who doesn't love pretty pictures?! The burdock plant is pretty well-known in North America where it was introduced from Europe, the Middle East and Asia (pretty much every area in the Northern Hemisphere EXCEPT North America). Across its native and introduced range it has the potential to become quite invasive, as it thrives in disturbed, nitrogen-rich soils. This makes it an especially-potent agricultural weed species. In most cases, however, when burdock seeds enter an area (especially a landscaped garden like you'd find around a home) a couple might develop into plants but spreading is rare. While I took these pictures on campus, there is also a very small colony (two plants) growing in my back yard. Since they're out of the way, I've left them there and hoped that the "keeper of the garden" (aka my dad) doesn't find them ugly enough to remove. To me, they're pretty in their own way. I wouldn't want lots of them (since they're irritating in their own way, too!), but one or two is just fine.

I had a bit of trouble getting this plant down to the species level because I neglected to make notes of (or take pictures of) the distinguishing characteristics between the greater burdock and the lesser burdock. One of the main ways to tell them apart is by looking at the base of the flower, or what we would call the "burr." If the flower is on a stalk, it's the greater burdock, and if the flower is directly attached to the branch (or is on a very short stalk), it's the lesser burdock. Since I think these pictures are just great, I'm going to go with the greater burdock :) Next time since I know what I'm looking for I'll make sure I photograph the stalks (or lack thereof) that the flowers are sitting on so I can make sure my identification is correct! There is one more burdock species in Ontario (also a non-native species) called the woolly burdock, but this one is easily distinguished from the other two. It has a bract at the bottom of each leaf that has very fine spike-like hairs on it. Neither of the other two species we have here show this characteristic. Aside from the flowers on (or not on) stalks, the other way to tell the lesser and greater burdock apart is based on size; the greater burdock is almost twice the size at maturity, and can have a taproot up to three feet long. For a plant that's only about three times bigger than that (but many in Canada don't reach that size), that's an enormous root! For all three species there are separate male and female flowers within the flower head. You can tell the difference by looking for the stigmas (the female bits of the flowers); they are pointed out with the bright pink arrow in the picture third from the bottom. Usually the stigmas only develop after the stamens of the male flowers have released their pollen; this way the plant can make sure the stigmas will catch pollen, but it won't be its own pollen; this is one of the mechanisms most often used to ensure cross-pollination between individual plants, rather than the pollen of an inflorescence landing on the stigma from that same inflorescence.

The burdock plant is pretty awesome for two reasons. First, if you look closely at the last picture you'll see that the burrs open up at the top to release the seeds, which are like miniature dandelion seeds, fluffy bit and all. The actual burr is covered in hairs with a hook at the end, and the tip of the hook has a very sharp point. This makes the burr feel "sticky" when you put it on your skin or when you grab at one, even though there's actually no sticky substance on the hairs. If you own a dog and have ever walked it through a forest or a field, I'm sure you're well aware of the nightmare that is "de-burring" a dog. The type of hair that covers dogs is just made for burrs using those hooked hairs to latch on for seed dispersal. Eventually, the dog will roll around on the ground, breaking open the burr and releasing the seeds (or the seeds will just gradually fall out of the hole in the burr, being released as the dog walks). Burrs certainly didn't co-evolve with dogs, but more like woolly mammoths, bears, moose, and other animals characteristic of northern climates (dogs just happen to be what is most likely to come by now). In the 1940s, a very smart man by the name of George de Mestral was getting very annoyed at having to pick burrs off of his dog after taking him for walks. After a few years of this he decided to clip some out of the dog fur instead of pulling them off so he could look at how the burrs attach to the dog hair. He realized he could exploit this technology; by collecting his dog's hair that comes off in brushes and the hairs of the burr, he could glue one to one side of two things he wanted to join, and glue the other to the other side. Once they come in contact, they would be permanently joined until they were carefully separated. Obviously no one wants dog hair and burrdock burrs glued to their clothing, but making synthetic versions of both of these gave us one of the most important inventions in the 20th century: velcro. Parents will small children: Mr. de Mestral I'm sure says "you're welcome!"

The other awesome part about this plant is that the giant taproot forming at the base of the plant is actually edible. Back in the Middle Ages in Europe this plant was actually one of many staple food crops, and was eaten and cultivated across Europe. Since then it has largely been abandoned as a source of food, but every so often you find it popping up in local cuisine. In Japan, for example, greater burdock roots are still peeled and cooked in a traditional stir-fry dish called kinpira gobo ("kinpira" for carrot, "gobo" for burdock). I didn't realize what I was eating at the time, but I had this dish when I was in Japan. It's pretty good! Not all that much flavour, but certainly not undesirable. I would definitely have it again now that I know what I'm eating.

Greater burdock roots also have a long history of being used in Traditional Chinese Medicine to treat blood and kidney diseases. Depending on what part of the plant is consumed (not the roots), it can be a pretty powerful diuretic, so if you don't know what you're doing, don't cook it. Other medicinal uses have not been established to be effective or ineffective, but there is some anecdotal evidence to suggest that some uses may be beneficial. First, the Ojibwa people have used burdock roots in a tea-like preparation to treat cancer (no evidence this is effective) and the leaves in a maceration with oils to treat baldness (also no evidence this is effective, but it does clean hair nicely if rinsed well). The Chinese also crush the seeds and consume the powder to treat flu, nausea and colds, and there is some evidence that this might be effective. The seeds contain chemicals called arctigenin, arctiin and aglycone, which have been shown in mice to be effective as: anti-viral treatments (especially against influenza A), anti-inflammatory agents (especially in the small intestine, but also to some degree in swollen joints as a result of arthritis), and anti-cancer treatments (extracts from the seeds, and pulverized seeds themselves, have been shown to kill tumour cells growing on artificial nutrient medium in petri dishes; this has never been tested in a living body of any type of animal). You never know; in a few decades burdock extract might be one of our new "wonder drugs"!

I'm back at blogging, and thanks for sticking through my absence! I really appreciate all of your continued support in my endeavours to spread the word that plants are awesome. Happy New Year to those that celebrate at this time of year!

BLOG RERUN: Mom's Secret Recipe

UPDATE TO THE UPDATE: Guess what?! Today is American Thanksgiving! Or, as we in Canada like to call it, Thursday. Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers. Enjoy the day off, and I'm VERY excited for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. For me, it's one of the highlights of November. I'll be really disappointed this year if the gigantic balloons don't make an appearance because of the high winds (but understandable; safety over balloons!). But more importantly...rest up! We've got some shopping to do tomorrow.


UPDATE: It has come to my attention that in my desire to be awesome and pseudo-celebrate American Thanksgiving, I have managed to jump the gun and do so a week early. SO! Stop reading this blog. Stop it! GO AWAY! Just kidding. Please don't go away. But skip this entry! And come back in a week.

(a version of this blog was originally posted on November 22, 2012)

Today I decided to do something completely different on my blog, because...well, because I can!

I was having a hard time coming up with another plant that screamed "Thanksgiving," since today is American Thanksgiving. I've already done two different species of pumpkins, and the only other suitable plant to blog about would be sweet potatoes...and those are a kettle of fish I was planning on getting into next year (still hasn't been done, despite my best intentions. One day!). So what other plant could I possibly blog about? There's no other typical vegetable of Thanksgiving that is universal to all celebrations, no matter where in the country you are. But then a colleague in the Biology Department, gave me a fabulous idea: why not blog about a recipe instead? Brilliant! So that's exactly what I'm going to do.

I'm going to feature my absolute favourite part of Thanksgiving, and Christmas (and sometimes even Easter) dinner: stuffing! I'm about to give away my mom's secret recipe (sorry mom!), so get your pens ready. Ready? Here it is:

My Mom's Famous Stuffing Recipe:
- bread (enough to stuff a turkey of your choice)
- water (enough to dampen the bread, but not make it soggy)
- onion (you like onion? Add a lot! Don't like onion? Add a little!)
- ground sage (see comments for onion, above)
- ground poultry seasoning (see comments for onion, above)
- love (don't have love on hand? Steal some from someone else!)

Steps: 
1. Tear up the bread by hand. Do it the way of the pilgrims. Food processors are the easy way out. Leave it chunky, don't make bread crumbs.
2. Chop up the onion. Dice it relatively finely, but not so fine it turns to mush when it starts cooking.
3. Put bread and onion in a giant bowl. Dump in your herbs.
4. Add in a little bit of water, and here's where your love comes in handy. Make sure your hands are clean, and mix that by hand. Mix, mix, mix. Still feels dry? Add a bit more water. Mix, mix mix. Still feels dry? Keep adding water and mixing until it's the desired consistency. Not soggy, but the bread sticks together with the mixture when you squish it into a ball. Feel free to make shapes here. I suggest snowmen. Use baby carrots as the nose. Take pictures!
5. Once you've got your desired consistency of stuffing, stuff it into your bird and enjoy the smell while it cooks.

Now you must be sworn to secrecy never to tell anyone how to do it! The bright side of giving away my mom's "secret" recipe is that NO ONE has been able to reproduce how it tastes. Trust me. That love? That's the secret ingredient. Each person's love tastes just a little bit different. And perhaps hand lotion...

So how on earth can I turn this into a blog? Well, there are three obvious species here that can be featured in this blog, each of which I'll do in a mini-blog: wheat, onion, and sage. Here we go!

A field of genetically modified wheat to resist fungal infections (Science Centric)

Wheat fruits, called a caryopsis (Flashcard Machine)

Species name: Triticum aestivum

Common name: bread wheat

Location: See above for internet sources; a common, non-native species

Wheat is native to the Middle East, in a region known as the Fertile Crescent and was first thought to be domesticated almost 11,000 years ago. This is a region of the Middle East from which we get many of our most important crops in North America. There are actually  more than 20 species of wheat, each of which are used for different purposes. The most common way that species of wheat have been "created" over the last few millenia is through spontaneous tetraploidy. This means that the plants have undergone some sort of cell division problem that has caused all of the DNA of the plant to go into one pollen grain and none in the other, instead of half of the DNA going into each pollen grain. One of these pollen grains comes into contact with an egg that has done this same thing, and now an embryo exists with the complete genome of its mother plant and father plant (and sometimes this is actually the same individual; this is called "selfing"). If this happened in humans or almost any other animal, the embryo would not be viable. In plants, however, this is incredibly common and probably the most common method of creating new species of plants. This is a pretty remarkable adaptation, too; think about how much genetic variation could be available to an organism containing four copies of each gene instead of only two! The expression rare recessive diseases would essentially be eliminated from the population. Some common wheat species that we use are the diploid T. aestivum which is mainly used for flour that goes into breads and cakes; T. durum (tetraploid), used for making pasta and couscous, is low in gluten; T. dicoccum (diploid), also known as emmer, is used for breadmaking in Egypt and some parts of Europe; and T. spelta (hexaploid), an ancient form of wheat (popular during the Middle Ages) still used now as a low-gluten equivalent to bread wheat.

Onions with their green leaves still attached (Illinois Vegetable Garden Guide)

Some different varieties of onions (Garden of Eaden)

Species name: Allium cepa

Common name: onion

Location: See above for internet sources; a common, non-native species

Onions are probably native to Central Asia, but there is much uncertainty about where they originated. Onions as a species are only known from cultivation, which is incredibly unusual as far as crop plants go. It is possible that it has gone through so many rounds of human selection that it is now genetically distinct from its ancestral species (the most likely explanation), or the ancestral species has now gone extinct (the unlikely explanation). There is one species, A. asarensefrom Iran, that is genetically very closely related to the common onion. All species of the genus Allium produce sulphur compounds, which give them their pungent smell. When these sulphur compounds come into contact with water they produce sulphuric acid, one of the most potent acids known. This is the chemical basis for the "IT BURNS MY EYES!!!!" reaction most people get when cutting onions. The easiest way to get rid of this effect is by refrigerating your onions before use, or putting them briefly in the freezer before chopping (just enough to make them cold, not frozen). This prevents the cut onion from being able to "bleed" as much as a non-refrigerated onion, contributing to less eye-burn. Also, make sure you wash your hands with soap before rubbing your eyes. Some people say plugging your nose also helps; I think it's more the silliness factor than anything else. The sulphur compounds are still becoming airborne and the mucous membranes of your eyes still contain a lot of water, so the chemical reaction cannot be modified by plugging your nose. I would contribute that to the placebo effect more than anything else. These sulphur compounds in onions (and garlic) have been exploited medicinally by humans for centuries. Yes, onions do have medicinal properties! They are very potent against bacteria and fungi, and so are popular for treating colds, the flu, and, of all things, Athlete's Foot. If you suffer from this (quite disgusting) fungal infection on your toenails, put some freshly chopped warm onions in a pot of warm water. Submerge your feet for a while, rinse, and pat dry. Fungi are incredibly intolerant to sulphur, so this should take care of them in a jiffy. In fact, many creams for Athlete's Foot exploit the natural sulphur-containing chemicals of onions!

The sage plant (GroAction.com)

Sage flowers (Soulistic Wellness)

Species name: Salvia officinalis

Common name: garden sage

Location: See above for internet sources; a common, non-native species

Sage is one of the most popular seasonings in the world, let alone in North America. The sage plant is native to the Mediterranean Region of Europe and Africa, where it still grows commonly in the wild. In North America it has the potential to become an invasive species in warmer climates, so just be careful if you plant it outside. It doesn't seem to tolerate Canadian winters well, or if it does it rarely spreads beyond where it was originally planted. The flower is incredibly characteristic of the mint family; it is purple, has a darker eyespot than the rest of the flower, the male and female parts of the flower overhang the bottom petal of the flower, and features a large bottom petal that can act as a "landing pad" for bees for pollination. This flower is very specialized for pollination by insects that can see ultraviolet light, and the reproductive parts have been modified to ensure that pollen gets onto that "secret spot" on the back of the bee's neck where it cannot access the pollen to groom it off of itself mid-flight. Bees actually love being covered in pollen by flowers not because they enjoy pollinating flowers, but because they pack this onto specialized areas on their legs to take back to the hive to feed the young larvae. Without the ability to put pollen onto the back of a bee's neck, the flower will be incredibly inefficient at cross-pollination, and will essentially be giving away its sperm to be used as bee food. Some biologists argue that bees are the most inefficient pollinators in the world! Sage also has some demonstrated health benefits and medicinal uses, although it is reported as being able to treat much more than it has actually been shown to do. One of the most promising uses of sage leaf extract (containing a combination of a huge number of essential oils; the exact combination of different chemicals has never successfully been created in a lab) is as a treatment for hyperlipidemia, or an increased level of lipids in the blood. This isn't just equivalent to obesity; in fact, obese people are incredibly efficient at filtering fats out of their blood and storing them in fat tissues (hence the obesity). This is more a result of a vast variety of genetic diseases that cause, sometimes for unknown reasons, lipids to build up in the blood. Other times it can be acquired due to various other medical conditions, the two most common being diabetes and renal failure. Chronic high levels of lipids in the blood can be incredibly dangerous to the circulatory system because it changes the viscosity of the blood, causing the heart to work harder. This can lead to different kinds of heart disease, heart attack, and stroke.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers!

Gobble Gobble (not a plant)

The sedge masquerading as nutsedge

Yesterday I did a Sherwood Fox Arboretum tour with a group on campus (the Senior Alumni). We walked around a tiny corner of the campus, talked about a bunch of trees (but certainly not all!) that we saw on the way, they asked questions (I tried my best to answer most of them!), we laughed at my silly jokes, and then we all went on our merry way. If you're here reading my blog because I told you about it yesterday, welcome! I'm glad you found it. To the rest of the almost 21,000 of you that have discovered my blog: you're awesome! Thanks for helping make my "little project" turn into a rather large project read worldwide. I appreciate your eyeballs glancing over my blog every so often :)

Species name: Cyperus sp. (probably Cyperus strigosus)

Common name: false nutsedge

Location: Western University campus

Sedges are neat and wonderful plants, but most of them get completely overlooked by the average person. They are relatives of grasses (in that they're in the same order of plants, which I guess would make them cousins in a way), along with rushes, but have one notable characteristic that distinguishes them from the grass family. More on that later. A lot of people, even a lot of professional botanists and a lot of amateur botanists, completely ignore sedges (any kind of grass, really) when coming up with plants to identify because they're just so gosh darn hard to ID without a microscope. There are so many species of grasses and grass relatives that it is incredibly easy to misidentify them. There are only a few subtle characteristics that can be used to identify different species of grasses and sedges, most of which require the use of either a dissecting or compound microscope. Characteristics like the shape and size of the flower (in this species you can see the flowers in the bottom picture; they are about 1 mm long and are yellow, with the white stamens sticking out to disperse pollen), and the shape and size of the pollen grains (not pictured since that requires a microscope to see, and that would have required me collecting the plant which I don't normally do). Since I have neither of these to work with, the best that I can do is a "best guess" based on habitat (a place that regularly gets wet, and can be quite swampy at times), country location (North America), and colour of the flowers based on the time of year (many turn brown as the seeds mature, and seed maturation is in the spring for some species, the summer for others, and the fall for yet others). I know I definitely have the genus correct, this is most certainly a Cyperus. I'm also pretty certain about the species name (C. strigosus) because of the presence of wispy leaves at the bottom of the stem (many sedges only have leaves under the flowers, not also at the base of the stem), and the general shape of the inflorescences or the flower heads.

If I am correct about my identification, this species of sedge is native to North America, from Canada all the way south to parts of northern Mexico. It prefers disturbed areas, as this species is only good at competing for resources with other plants when there is low diversity and a large amount of available light. This is the same as many species of sedge; in established meadows it is rare to see a lot of sedges (although, at the periphery they might lead you to believe they might be common, since edge habitats are disturbed areas by definition). In areas of bare soil (like newly tilled agricultural fields or even backyard gardens), it is common for this plant to invade and spread rapidly. It can become invasive in some areas that are under constant states of disturbance, and is also considered an agricultural pest.

So what makes sedges, as a group, interesting? They look a whole lot like grass, and with one exception have no major economic value. The fascinating part about these plants is their stem structure: it's triangular. If you make a cross-section of the plant, it is incredibly obvious that the stem is triangular (mint stems are, as a general rule, square but some species have "rounded square" stems so you have to use your imagination a bit to see the square; this is not the case with sedges. They all have distinctly triangular stems). You can even tell that the stems are triangular in the middle picture by looking at the leaves emerging from just under the inflorescences: the largest leaves all radiate outwards from each edge of the triangle, and the smaller leaves under them radiate outwards from the three corners of the triangle stem. If you think about it, maintaining a triangle during growth would be incredibly difficult. The more you push the sides of a triangle outwards to "make room" for stuff on the inside, the more it becomes a circle. You'd think that after the stem was finished growing, it should be completely cylindrical and only have three ridges or bumps where the triangle's corners used to be. That's not actually what happens, since fully-mature sedges still have triangular stems. Plants aren't as simple as we think they are!

I mentioned somewhere up there that there's only one economically important sedge. Even at that, the economic importance of this species is significantly less than what it once was. I'll give you bonus points if you can figure out what it is (these points can be added to other hypothetical points you get in other places. You know, like bonus points you get for doing the dishes or walking the dog without having to be asked. Those kinds of points).

You put your left flower in, you take your left flower out...

Species name: Physostegia virginiana

Common name: obedient plant

Location: Western University campus

I didn't realize until after I had taken and water-marked these photos that I had already blogged about this plant once. If you'd like to go back and read the first version, you can do so HERE. If you'd like to read a "better than the last" version, keep reading! :)

The obedient plant is one cool plant. Endless hours of entertainment if you're lost in a prairie (more on that later). The native range of this tiny plant is quite impressive, ranging from the northernmost edge of the temperate forest in Canada all the way south to parts of the (very small bit that's remaining) tropical forests of Mexico. If grown in Canada it illustrates the reason why I should have made the species status diagrams with a "common, native, invasive species" combination because it spreads very quickly and can dominate a landscape in just a few years. Where there is snow during the winter the plant will die off, but because of the extensive underground network of rhizomes it will pop back up in the spring and produce more of the beautiful flowers. If you're thinking of planting this species in your garden, then go ahead and do so if you live in my area. It's a native species, and it's never a bad idea to plant a native species! You might want to reconsider, however, if you have an intense aversion to weeding (it will spread, trust me) or if your yard backs onto an Environmentally Significant Area. For those locations, even the slightest change in dominant species (such as providing a source for a seed bank of a weedy, although native, species) could spell disaster for the area. Always make sure you keep in mind what is around you before making major changes to the landscaping in your yard.

This species is one of the best examples of a member of the mint family, or the Lamiaceae. The stems of this family are almost always square, while nearly all other plant stems (the notable exception are the sedges) are round in cross-section. You can see the ridges of the square stems of this plant clearly in the third picture, above. The leaves are also characteristic of the mint family: they are simple leaves with teeth (some members of the mint family have leaves with smooth edges) that emerge from the stem directly across from each other. The next node up (or down) on the stem will also have opposite leaves but they will be at right angles to the previous level of leaves. You can also see what I mean by this in the third photo. The flowers are also very characteristic of the mint family, although different varieties of this plant have been modified in different ways (sometimes quite drastically) to be different than the so-called "wild type." A wild type plant is a plant that would be found growing in the wild without having experienced any intervention by horticulturalists (or, in the case of edible plants, farmers). The group of plants above are pretty characteristic of the wild type of this species: purple-pink flowers, the flower petals are joined at the bottom and form a structure that looks like two lips at the edge of the flower, darker purple or purple-pink splotches on the bottom lip, and the sexual parts (most noticeable being the stigmas) being attached to the top lip of the flower. This "two lip" morphology isn't done just by chance by the plant; it's actually a flower shape that has co-eveolved with the choice pollinator of this species: bees. Something that you may or may not be aware about bees is that they can't see colours like we see colours. Everything green looks a very dark blue to them, so picking out flowers from a sea of blue-black is difficult, especially when you can't see them. Bess are special, though, because they can see a wavelength of light that we can't see: ultraviolet light. This means that anything that's purple, or even purple-pink, will glow when a bee looks at it. The flowers themselves aren't quite purple, so merely act as lightly glowing beacons in the sea of blue-black plant material. This is enough to entice the bees over, but the dark purple patches on the lower lips of the flower is what really brings the bees over. The bees see the structure of the flower, and use the lower lip of the flower like a landing pad (those darker splotches would be like the landing lights that pilots use to land planes on runways at night). The bee would wiggle around, trying to get its head as deep into the flower tube as possible to access all of the yummy nectar. This would cause the bee's back to rub up against the stigmas of the flower (located on the top lip, which you can see in the fourth and fifth pictures above), which would dust pollen all over the bee's back. Once the nectar is gone, the bee would fly to the next flower, do the same thing, and transfer all of the pollen from its back onto the stigmas of the next flower, ensuring successful cross-pollination. Sneaky little flower! But also quite a smart little flower.

So why is this plant called the "obedient" plant? Well...it stays where you put it. Huh? The flowers actually have the ability to swivel around the flower stalk, and when the flowers swivel into a new position they stay that way. Check it out below:

In the top photo all of the flowers are pointing towards the ground, which is actually pretty common in this species once the flower heads flop over (often they grow too quickly for their own stems to support them if conditions are ideal). In the bottom photo I took two of the flowers by the base and swivelled them around to point straight up. They'll stay that way for up to a minute, then flop back to their original position. If you give the flowers a break, you can move them back and forth multiple times before the plant will just give up on those flowers and dissolve them off the flower stalk. Only the best are allowed to set seed!