It has been quite some time since I've written any of my thoughts down. I've been busy, and when not busy it has been a challenge to sit my brain down and make it work or write. But there have many experiences in the past few months worth mentioning, and worth reflecting upon. In part that is because I have just completed my first year of graduate school working towards my masters degree in forestry. To say forestry is, perhaps, a bit miss-leading because my area of focus is tree (and plant) ecophysiology, physiology, climate change, and ecology. Ecophysiology, to clarify the term, is concerned with the interaction between plants and their environment, and how environmental conditions affect the physiology (biochemistry, growth, and health) of the plant. I have gained considerable research experience since graduating from St. Olaf College in 2012 -- living in Hokkaido (Japan) from 2012-13 studying elevated CO2 and forest science, and then going to Australia for a few more months of ecophysiology research. During those research experiences, I was searching for a graduate program. So forest science, and at a broader scale ecology and ecophysiology, is something that has been of interest and relevance in my life for a while now.
To be completely truthful, much of this interest stems not from "scientific" curiosity, but from a love, reverence, fascination, and respect for life, the earth, and the experience of it all. I have less interest in many of the bi-products of Western-centric science that tend to ignore the integrity of non-human living things, such as non-human animals and plants. I also have less of an interest in greenhouse studies of plants and life, which co-opt those lives for the purposes of research rather than observe free and growing organisms (ironically, my own research is precisely what I dislike -- a greenhouse "drought" study that will ultimately harm and kill my subjects). Admittedly, I have struggled with this during my first year in graduate school. My perspective is rather different from many "scientists." That being said, reflecting on a year in graduate school, it has been immensely refreshing to learn. I can never emphasize enough what a gift it is, to be told "your job is to learn, that is why you are here." Sometimes, it is hard to believe. And for that, I am immensely, profoundly grateful. That is my job -- to learn about forests, and ecosystems, and plants, and to improve myself (and hopefully, from that investment, help to protect and improve the world even if it is only in some small way.) I have taken a wealth of courses, some of them better than others, but some of them very captivating. Among my favorites was a course in photosynthesis and photobiology (fascinating!), forest health, and soil biology. I also completed two terms of statistics, with high marks. This is an achievement I am proud of. It is a not-so-secret secret of mine that I struggle with mathematics and more quantitative reasoning. At one time, I very much enjoyed them but reached my peak of ability early, and despite a long-lasting curiosity and enjoyment of those fields, math has little love of me. Knowing that I felt uncomfortable with my statistical background, it was one of my most important goals to improve. An understanding of statistics is necessary in scientific fields, in order to explain, present, and communicate results. I have not seen the last of statistics (I am still not great, and plan to take a few more courses) but I am pleased with my hard work and improvement. Likewise, from my other courses, I have learned a huge amount (and look forward to learning more next year).
I also had a chance to present some interdisciplinary work at the OSU Arts and Humanities Graduate Conference in April. The purpose of the conference was to share work by researchers and graduate students in the arts and humanities, and especially those doing interdisciplinary work. The organizer found out about me through my professor. You may know that I am rather interdisciplinary. Sometimes, I feel a little like a chameleon, blending into science despite being a humanities person, and then sneaking back into the humanities. History was my first academic love, and it remains an important part of me. And then there is art, and writing both of which I continue to practice. Ideally, I will one day combine them all. I have been doing some philosophical/historical work on my own on the rare occasions that I had a bit of time to spare it. During the winter, I wrote a brief piece called "The Problem with Nature." This piece summarizes many of my thoughts about the use of the common word "nature" to vaguely describe the earth and life, and why I find this dangerous. My goal is to write more extensively about this topic, and to delve into greater historical research on the development of that mentality. I was actually originally asked if I wanted to participate in this conference, however, because of my art work and because they sought artists to share some of their pieces. I happily agreed, but wanted to work in this other research and so formulated my research around that scholarship, and some of its overlaps with my art work. That is because, most of what I do is connected. Most of my thoughts tie together, and whether they are expressed through scientific inquiry, paintings, history, writing, they are likely to have a similar theme. My art work often focuses on the earth, on plants or landscapes or people in them. I love to depict "beauty", or things that I find "beautiful." But I would be troubled if you said that I paint or depict "nature." (My above-mentioned essay can give you more of that background.) So I used my artwork as a platform to dissect the problems with "nature", and the ideas of my essay and hopeful further research. I have also posted the power point of that presentation here on my website. It was a spectacular experience. I was so glad to dust off my humanities work and step back amongst some like-minded folks. Despite being a shy person, I also paradoxically like presenting and public speaking, so that was also a very enjoyable opportunity.
As an aside, this past year has also brought a number of visitors out to Oregon to see me. Among them, my dear friends Lisa, Maddie, and Stuart. Lisa and Maddie are friends from St. Olaf. It is unbelievable to me that I have such wonderful people in my life, to fly out to spend time with me and explore a bit of Oregon. Prior to my friends' visit, my beloved aunt Diane ("Didi") was the inaugural visitor, which was also wonderful. My college teammate Laurel would be next, visiting for a running race, and eventually my dad and little brother.
Although I now have one year of coursework under my belt and it is summertime, I will unfortunately not be going home to Minnesota for summer "break." And when I say break, I say it somewhat sarcastically. That is because all of my field work will be occurring during the months of June (now passed), July, August, and September. My goal is to finish my "field" work (also being sarcastic, because a greenhouse is a far-cry from "field" work to me) before the start of the academic year on September 24th. This means that while I no longer have coursework, at least for the summer, I have a lot of other work before me. My research involves loblolly pine seedlings and Douglas-fir seedlings, with three provenances of each. Douglas-fir is the dominant timber species, and probably tree species in general, in the Pacific Northwest. Loblolly pine is the dominant timber species in the Southeast. A provenance is essentially a "seed source" -- a geographic location. In this case, those provenances, or locations, are a coastal source of each species, an "inland" source, and a disjunct or extreme source. These sources are correlated with low, moderate, and high drought tolerance, which I will be testing experimentally by subjecting them to two consecutive droughts. The "disjunct" or extreme sources of loblolly and Douglas-fir are locations that exhibit extreme dry conditions. I am interested in whether or not the seedling's source and environmental/evolutionary history is of greatest importance or whether the experienced conditions of the seedling during its (short) lifetime is of greatest importance in determining drought tolerance and drought susceptibility. I am also interested in what physiological characteristics are correlated with drought tolerance and drought susceptibility. This work will be done in the coming weeks and months, in the greenhouses here at Oregon State University where the seedlings are now housed. I say "now" housed because getting them here was an ordeal in itself. Normally, you would probably grow your seedlings in the greenhouse that will be their permanent home. In my case, my seedlings were sown and transplanted by myself and others about 3 hours north in Washington back in April. Up until last week, that is where they were living and being taken care of. So, I had to figure out how to get them to Oregon State University. By the way, there are 4,000 of them. This is approximately 185 square feet of seedlings. In the end, the process involved driving a 26 foot U-Haul -- with the floor packed with seedlings -- and then making a second trip a few days later to retrieve the remainder in a 6-wheel covered truck combined with a trailer. Then unloading them tray by tray into the OSU greenhouses. Phew. I must say, I am pretty darn pleased with myself for figuring out how to perform that logistical feat. And I did it without dropping a single seedling. And with some help from my dad, sister, and little brother. Actually, a great dose of help from my dad. The "Great Move" as I shall dub the ordeal occurred while my dad and little brother were visiting, which helped make things smoother. When I started graduate school, little did I know I would be learning how to operate gigantic trucks on the interstate.
Now, I am in the throes of finalizing the experimental design and perhaps sooner than I would like will be beginning the experiment itself. Yes, all that work of growing and transporting the seedlings was only the prep. I will be spending many, many, many hours this summer in the greenhouse with those seedlings using various scientific equipment to measure soil moisture, photosynthesis, plant water use and hydraulic characteristics, sugar storage, and fluorescence (often an indicator of stress). I dream of field studies -- where I am out in the woods, or prairie, or even some backyard -- observing life instead of torturing it. But my hope is that my research will yield important information about tree health in drought, how trees might survive, and how they might not. Out here in Oregon and all across the West Coast, drought has been a major concern to say the least. In will, likely, continue to increase in intensity and frequency in many parts of the world. This will have serious consequences for plants, and for forests. Still, I feel sorrow with the knowledge that my research will ultimately lead to deaths, to the (all too likely unnecessary) taking of 4,000 lives. This is, truthfully, against my ethics. I love all life, and see no living thing as greater than any other. I dislike the idea of tampering with life, and believe more scientists need to question their research practices and the justifications for their decisions. Greater caution should be met when an experiment will tamper with life (despite my acknowledgement that much has been learned from some such experiments) and for me there is no reason this caution should not extend to plants. Therefore, I remind myself to respect the lives and integrity of each seedling. And I feel gratitude to them, for what I receive.
I am sure there will be more to tell of my research as time continues. Next, I want to talk about running!
To be completely truthful, much of this interest stems not from "scientific" curiosity, but from a love, reverence, fascination, and respect for life, the earth, and the experience of it all. I have less interest in many of the bi-products of Western-centric science that tend to ignore the integrity of non-human living things, such as non-human animals and plants. I also have less of an interest in greenhouse studies of plants and life, which co-opt those lives for the purposes of research rather than observe free and growing organisms (ironically, my own research is precisely what I dislike -- a greenhouse "drought" study that will ultimately harm and kill my subjects). Admittedly, I have struggled with this during my first year in graduate school. My perspective is rather different from many "scientists." That being said, reflecting on a year in graduate school, it has been immensely refreshing to learn. I can never emphasize enough what a gift it is, to be told "your job is to learn, that is why you are here." Sometimes, it is hard to believe. And for that, I am immensely, profoundly grateful. That is my job -- to learn about forests, and ecosystems, and plants, and to improve myself (and hopefully, from that investment, help to protect and improve the world even if it is only in some small way.) I have taken a wealth of courses, some of them better than others, but some of them very captivating. Among my favorites was a course in photosynthesis and photobiology (fascinating!), forest health, and soil biology. I also completed two terms of statistics, with high marks. This is an achievement I am proud of. It is a not-so-secret secret of mine that I struggle with mathematics and more quantitative reasoning. At one time, I very much enjoyed them but reached my peak of ability early, and despite a long-lasting curiosity and enjoyment of those fields, math has little love of me. Knowing that I felt uncomfortable with my statistical background, it was one of my most important goals to improve. An understanding of statistics is necessary in scientific fields, in order to explain, present, and communicate results. I have not seen the last of statistics (I am still not great, and plan to take a few more courses) but I am pleased with my hard work and improvement. Likewise, from my other courses, I have learned a huge amount (and look forward to learning more next year).
I also had a chance to present some interdisciplinary work at the OSU Arts and Humanities Graduate Conference in April. The purpose of the conference was to share work by researchers and graduate students in the arts and humanities, and especially those doing interdisciplinary work. The organizer found out about me through my professor. You may know that I am rather interdisciplinary. Sometimes, I feel a little like a chameleon, blending into science despite being a humanities person, and then sneaking back into the humanities. History was my first academic love, and it remains an important part of me. And then there is art, and writing both of which I continue to practice. Ideally, I will one day combine them all. I have been doing some philosophical/historical work on my own on the rare occasions that I had a bit of time to spare it. During the winter, I wrote a brief piece called "The Problem with Nature." This piece summarizes many of my thoughts about the use of the common word "nature" to vaguely describe the earth and life, and why I find this dangerous. My goal is to write more extensively about this topic, and to delve into greater historical research on the development of that mentality. I was actually originally asked if I wanted to participate in this conference, however, because of my art work and because they sought artists to share some of their pieces. I happily agreed, but wanted to work in this other research and so formulated my research around that scholarship, and some of its overlaps with my art work. That is because, most of what I do is connected. Most of my thoughts tie together, and whether they are expressed through scientific inquiry, paintings, history, writing, they are likely to have a similar theme. My art work often focuses on the earth, on plants or landscapes or people in them. I love to depict "beauty", or things that I find "beautiful." But I would be troubled if you said that I paint or depict "nature." (My above-mentioned essay can give you more of that background.) So I used my artwork as a platform to dissect the problems with "nature", and the ideas of my essay and hopeful further research. I have also posted the power point of that presentation here on my website. It was a spectacular experience. I was so glad to dust off my humanities work and step back amongst some like-minded folks. Despite being a shy person, I also paradoxically like presenting and public speaking, so that was also a very enjoyable opportunity.
As an aside, this past year has also brought a number of visitors out to Oregon to see me. Among them, my dear friends Lisa, Maddie, and Stuart. Lisa and Maddie are friends from St. Olaf. It is unbelievable to me that I have such wonderful people in my life, to fly out to spend time with me and explore a bit of Oregon. Prior to my friends' visit, my beloved aunt Diane ("Didi") was the inaugural visitor, which was also wonderful. My college teammate Laurel would be next, visiting for a running race, and eventually my dad and little brother.
Although I now have one year of coursework under my belt and it is summertime, I will unfortunately not be going home to Minnesota for summer "break." And when I say break, I say it somewhat sarcastically. That is because all of my field work will be occurring during the months of June (now passed), July, August, and September. My goal is to finish my "field" work (also being sarcastic, because a greenhouse is a far-cry from "field" work to me) before the start of the academic year on September 24th. This means that while I no longer have coursework, at least for the summer, I have a lot of other work before me. My research involves loblolly pine seedlings and Douglas-fir seedlings, with three provenances of each. Douglas-fir is the dominant timber species, and probably tree species in general, in the Pacific Northwest. Loblolly pine is the dominant timber species in the Southeast. A provenance is essentially a "seed source" -- a geographic location. In this case, those provenances, or locations, are a coastal source of each species, an "inland" source, and a disjunct or extreme source. These sources are correlated with low, moderate, and high drought tolerance, which I will be testing experimentally by subjecting them to two consecutive droughts. The "disjunct" or extreme sources of loblolly and Douglas-fir are locations that exhibit extreme dry conditions. I am interested in whether or not the seedling's source and environmental/evolutionary history is of greatest importance or whether the experienced conditions of the seedling during its (short) lifetime is of greatest importance in determining drought tolerance and drought susceptibility. I am also interested in what physiological characteristics are correlated with drought tolerance and drought susceptibility. This work will be done in the coming weeks and months, in the greenhouses here at Oregon State University where the seedlings are now housed. I say "now" housed because getting them here was an ordeal in itself. Normally, you would probably grow your seedlings in the greenhouse that will be their permanent home. In my case, my seedlings were sown and transplanted by myself and others about 3 hours north in Washington back in April. Up until last week, that is where they were living and being taken care of. So, I had to figure out how to get them to Oregon State University. By the way, there are 4,000 of them. This is approximately 185 square feet of seedlings. In the end, the process involved driving a 26 foot U-Haul -- with the floor packed with seedlings -- and then making a second trip a few days later to retrieve the remainder in a 6-wheel covered truck combined with a trailer. Then unloading them tray by tray into the OSU greenhouses. Phew. I must say, I am pretty darn pleased with myself for figuring out how to perform that logistical feat. And I did it without dropping a single seedling. And with some help from my dad, sister, and little brother. Actually, a great dose of help from my dad. The "Great Move" as I shall dub the ordeal occurred while my dad and little brother were visiting, which helped make things smoother. When I started graduate school, little did I know I would be learning how to operate gigantic trucks on the interstate.
Now, I am in the throes of finalizing the experimental design and perhaps sooner than I would like will be beginning the experiment itself. Yes, all that work of growing and transporting the seedlings was only the prep. I will be spending many, many, many hours this summer in the greenhouse with those seedlings using various scientific equipment to measure soil moisture, photosynthesis, plant water use and hydraulic characteristics, sugar storage, and fluorescence (often an indicator of stress). I dream of field studies -- where I am out in the woods, or prairie, or even some backyard -- observing life instead of torturing it. But my hope is that my research will yield important information about tree health in drought, how trees might survive, and how they might not. Out here in Oregon and all across the West Coast, drought has been a major concern to say the least. In will, likely, continue to increase in intensity and frequency in many parts of the world. This will have serious consequences for plants, and for forests. Still, I feel sorrow with the knowledge that my research will ultimately lead to deaths, to the (all too likely unnecessary) taking of 4,000 lives. This is, truthfully, against my ethics. I love all life, and see no living thing as greater than any other. I dislike the idea of tampering with life, and believe more scientists need to question their research practices and the justifications for their decisions. Greater caution should be met when an experiment will tamper with life (despite my acknowledgement that much has been learned from some such experiments) and for me there is no reason this caution should not extend to plants. Therefore, I remind myself to respect the lives and integrity of each seedling. And I feel gratitude to them, for what I receive.
I am sure there will be more to tell of my research as time continues. Next, I want to talk about running!
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