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Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Skyblue Lupine

Lupinus diffusus

Fabaceae

 

[Fertilizer 101:  In descending order of abundance, plants need mostly nitrogen, much phosphorus, potassium, and several “minor” and “micro” nutrients, including prominently iron.  Nitrogen is abundant in the air, but microbes must convert that nitrogen gas to the nitrate and ammonium plants use.   Plants often have trouble acquiring phosphorus, because it does not flow in with water as nitrogen does.   The plant root or fungi associated with the root have to “go get” phosphorus.  Plants in scrub sand have automatic nutrient challenges in that ultra-poor soil.]

Out seeking eagles today, John jumped about 5 feet into the air, mumbling something about “red touches yellow.”

Eastern Coral Snake 1

Something yellow, something black sneaking up behind your back.  (Except where indicated differently, today’s photos by John Bradford.)

Near the sneaky snake we found the pretty plant of the day…Skyblue Lupine.   And here is its mystery:   out in the sugar sand scrub most plants look like they belong growing in a sun-cooked nutrient-deficient sandbox.    They tend to have tough demeanors.   Their gnarly adaptations are what make scrub fun to photo.   But Lupines, by contrast, look robust, green, lush, and perky.   How does the Lupine do it?    How does a Lupine on the sterile sand look like a Garden Club flower out of a nice fertilized flower pot?

Lupinus diffusus 6

Too spunky for a scrub plant!

There may be an answer or two.   It is a Legume, and Legumes have nitrogen-fixing bacterial root nodules to capture that atmospheric nitrogen   Nitrogen problem solved.   True and  nice,  but just the first chapter in a better story.  How bout the second-most limiting nutrient, phosphorus?

Here we must turn to other Lupine species and extrapolate speculatively.   Multiple hundred Lupinus species color the world, including the length of North and South America along the Rocky Mountains and Andes, and much more.  A handful decorate Florida, some native.  Only one is indigenous to South Florida, L. diffusus.    Now back to phosphorus.

Students from my classes, I hope might say, “symbiotic fungi help plants get phosphorus by digesting soil organic matter and sharing the booty with their host roots.”    But oh yea….that scrub soil has no organic matter, and Lupines do not have (or not much) helpful root fungi.    By the way, Lupines collectively are famous for tolerating terrible soils.   In their sterile ground they need a plan-B to get their P:

Back in the 80s botanists caught on to what were called “Proteoid Roots,” discovered first in the plant family Proteaceae.    Since then such roots have turned up in additional plants, making the newer name “Cluster Roots” better.   Cluster Roots look like a bottlebrush.    Guess what stimulates their formation?  Low phosphorus.   Guess what plants outside of Proteaceae can form them to counter low P?    Some Lupines, although as far as I know, L. diffusus remains unchecked, and we can’t dig it in a state park to see!

lupinus cluser roots ajb 10 263 2013 Michael Shane

Lupine Cluster Roots (Michael Shane, Am. Jour. Bot. 100: 263. 2013)

Cluster Roots are not mere brushes.  They are dynamic chemical factories.  The sorts of chemical activities associated with Cluster Roots occur as expected in Lupines with Cluster Roots.  And a little surprisingly, the “Cluster Root functions” turn up also in Lupines where Cluster Roots are unknown.   What are those magic functions?

First and foremost, they secrete citric acid (aka citrate) and similar compounds able to displace phosphorus from soil particles, busting P loose for the plant.   Reportedly as much as 1/3 of the photosynthetic product of some Lupines winds up as excreted  citric acid.  And it gets better:   Citric acid can free inorganic phosphorus, that is,  from soil minerals themselves, not just from (that absent) decaying organic matter.

Lupine roots release supplemental enzymes called phosphatases that liberate even more phosphorus while additional secretions adjust the soil acidity, probably to support  the phosphatase enzymes and/or to help bring in iron, which is sensitive to soil acidity.  But there’s a problem:

Soil microbes digest citric acid.  No worries, Lupines put out soil antibiotics to thwart the little pests.  That’s doubly useful because citric acid helps chaperone iron into roots.  Citric acid helps so much with iron and phosphorus uptake, some commercial fertilizers include it as an ingredient, sometimes hand-in-hand with potassium as potassium citrate.

lupine fertilizer

Factories put citrate (citric acid) in the bag along with P (the P2O5 on the label above).  Lupines make their own citrate,  and borrow their P from the soil directly.

That’s a lot on nutrients.  So here’s the upshot.  All this helps explain something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.

Something old:

Lupines as crops date back thousands of years, valued for growth on poor soils.   Explained!

Something new:

Lupines are future crops precious in a starving world with poor soils to farm and phosphorus fertilizers becoming  expensive.

Something borrowed:

Phosphorus fertilizers are pollutants.   But Lupines merely borrow P from the soil, then give it back when plowed under,  even helping support other crops.  No polluting P added!

Something blue:

How many blue wildflowers are there?  (Few)

Lupinus diffusus 7

The pods are woolly.

 
14 Comments

Posted by on February 26, 2016 in Skyblue Lupine, Uncategorized

 

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Pokeweed

 Pokeweed

Phytolacca americana

Phytolaccaceae

Click for deeper data 

Yesterday John and George explored the natural area adjacent to Bert Winters Park on the Intracoastal in Juno Beach.  This disturbed scrub habitat is in part a scuffed-up area showing signs of invasive exotic removal, and has a small pond surrounded by a sedge-lover’s paradise of wet-mud-plants.  Like any recently disturbed area, the botanizing is fun, and the wildflowers were pretty and plentiful: Coreopsis, Frostweed, Hempvine covered with puffy fruit clusters, Jeweled Blue-Eyed Grass looking like a little blue garden iris, Pineland Scalypink blooming on the sunbaked sand, Procession Flower parading across the dune side, Skyblue Lupine, and striking Beautyberry in full berry.

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                                               Photo above: Procession Flower by JB

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                                                 Photo above: Skyblue Lupine by JB

Such a dandy menu – so hard to select a species to feature.  So how about the most beautiful of all: Pokeweed.

Phytolacca americana is a fascinating species, at least to a die-hard plant enthusiast.  We’ve all heard of Poke Sallet Annie who used to make a mess of it, after careful boiling it to defuse the toxins.  Poke sallet (salad) has had such prominence as an “edible” green they used to can it, a bad idea.  They also used to color wine with the berry juice, another bummer.  As kids we used to smear the berries on as war paint, again, not optimal.  And here is why:

The plant contains kickass bioactive compounds.  The roots or even the berries can kill a person in a jiffy.  But the acute toxicity is not what we’re going to discuss now.  More subtle and insidious are proteins called pokeweed mitogens, abbreviated PWM.   For George these have the distinction of being his first Internet search, back in the 80s when you had to make an appointment with a trained librarian, and received the results on that green-striped perforated computer paper.  The outcome of that primitive search was a huge literature on PWMs.  You can Google pokeweed mitogens on your own now with no help from the librarian.  (That’s a hint—do it.)   These compounds, merely from touching the plant, repeat, from just handling the foliage, stimulate the human immune system to proliferate white blood cells.  PWMs work in ultra-minute concentrations.   No thanks on that sallet, Annie.

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                                                       Photo above: Pokeweed by JB

Why was this not discovered until recently?  The PWM effects don’t seem to cause any known symptoms.  You don’t feel ill, but if you go in for a routine blood test you might raise some eyebrows.  (That is how the effect was discovered.)   These super-charged proteins have taken on a life of their own in immune-cell medical research.  Poke the Pokeweed, it pokes you back.

There is additional interesting Pokeweed biochemistry—antiviral compounds for instance—but let’s move on to bigger things.  This species is a master weed.  It builds up a massive root  that can pose as a parsnip, which is how it has snuffed occasional vegetable gardeners.  The root could survive a nuclear attack and provide poke salad to the mutant post-apocalyptic survivors.  (They will have bigger concerns than proliferating white blood cells.)  Even more interesting are the seeds.

Squash one of those black berries (oh yea, right, don’t touch it).  There are 10 seeds like bullets in a revolver.  Now you might think, “that’s nice, the birds eat the berries and disperse the seeds like any old berry maker plant.”  True, but with an odd twist.  The seeds have varied “wait times” for germination.  If you pluck out the 10 seeds and plant them, some will sprout right away, and others won’t.  Some have a built-in delay documented to last at least 40 years.  This weed is banking for the future!  When a bird drops the seeds from one plant, not only is it being dispersed in space but also in time.  Some of those delay-action seeds get into the soil, then a new forest grows up,  a cyclone blows the forest away, and ta-dah(!) pokeweeds sprout forth after a very patient wait.

This is getting long, but there’s one more important thing, so just keep reading.  Pokeweed has an odd geographic distribution pattern.  The species comes in two varieties.  The “normal” variety, variety americana, with droopy flower clusters is widespread across much of North America.  What’s weird is variety rigida, which, by contrast, holds the inflorescence upright.  Variety rigida is confined to the Atlantic and Gulf coasts, mostly in a razor-thin seaside strip as narrow as a mile or so, stretching from approximately New Jersey to Texas.   The only area where it occurs inland is across all of Florida, which is not exactly inland.   You might think the difference is environmental—maybe those coastal briny breezes influence the angle of the dangle, but life is never so simple.  If you take seeds from perky variety rigida and cultivate them inland where its droopy cousins dwell, the rigida grows up proudly erect, indicating a genetic component to the puzzle.

Now that’s just wacky. Geographically, upright variety rigida is a thin wrapper on the edge of a huge dangly variety americana population.  Along the coast the two grow in close proximity.  I mean, start at the beach, spot the upright rigida on the dunes, walk inland  a mile and the inflorescences droop.  Birds no doubt constantly carry rigida seeds into americana territory and vice versa, yet the two persist as distinct (there are occasional intermediates).  Go figure!

The take-home lessons are these:

1. Do not eat the Pokeweed even if Grandma did, even if Grandma boiled it.  If you are a Grandma, do not serve it.

2. Do not handle the Pokeweed if you are having blood work anytime soon, unless you want to have some fun with the doctors.

3. If you clear the forest, time-delay Pokeweed may rise up and say hello.

4. Because we live in Florida, our Pokeweed has upright flower clusters, but who knows why.

 
4 Comments

Posted by on January 22, 2012 in Pokeweed

 

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