Posted on 10/06/2018 2:02:35 PM PDT by BenLurkin
Pentagon research project called "Insect Allies." Funded by the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA), the project involves using gene-editing techniques like CRISPR to infect insects with modified viruses that could help make America's crops more resilient. If a cornfield were hit by an unexpected drought or suddenly exposed to a pathogen, for example, Insect Allies might deploy an army of aphids carrying a genetically modified virus to slow the corn plant's growth rate.
According to the DARPA website, these "targeted therapies" could take effect in a single growing season, potentially protecting the American crop system from food security threats like disease, flooding, frost and even "threats introduced by state or non-state actors.
… Insect Allies, is less concerned. "Anytime you're developing a new and revolutionary technology, there is that potential for [both offensive and defensive] capability," Bextine told The Washington Post. "But that is not what we are doing. We are delivering positive traits to plants… We want to make sure we ensure food security, because food security is national security in our eyes."
Insect Allies is still in the early stages of development, and at least four U.S. colleges (Boyce Thompson Institute, Penn State University, The Ohio State University and the University of Texas at Austin)have received funding to carry out research. Bextine told The Washington Post that the project recently achieved its first milestone — testing whether an aphid could infect a stalk of corn with a designer virus that caused fluorescence. According to the Washington Post, "the corn glowed."
(Excerpt) Read more at livescience.com ...
There goes your career as a concert pianist ...
They will grow back or I’ll whittle new ones out of wood. Can’t get to my toes to eat them so if need be I’ll whittle fingers with my toes
Her Mom and Dad did good choosing her name
I have a niece Autumn. She's a sweet girl but her voice is too high-pitched for me.
I love our (my) Autumn and bet you love your Autumn too. Prayers that all is well with you and yours Bob
Pretty much okay.
This is my favorite tribute to Autumn, (though it's not the same Autumn.)
Last Fall
The days are short, the wind has grown,
My community has now all flown.
I stare at emptiness all around,
And brownish carpeting on the ground.
When I was young, so long ago,
The days seemed endless, ever so.
I was so green. I’ve learned a lot.
So many shared my lofty spot.
We danced and twirled the time away,
Forgetful of the length of day,
With unseen music through the bright,
And whispers in the silent night.
Alone, I watch the neighborhood,
A stark and silent stretch of wood,
Tears sometimes dim the golden days,
Until the scene is filled with haze.
And only memory serves to fill,
The lonely times upon this hill.
They all have gone now, I remain,
A sad perspective is my gain.
They’ve departed, this way and that,
A graceful tip of an invisible hat,
And scattered to the winds they were,
Until only I am left to stir,
I twist to shed the Winter’s blast,
As I enjoy my being last,
And in the bleak and dismal scene,
I long for days when things were green.
One morning, I awake to find,
The world transformed while I was blind.
In darkness, change had come within the night,
The brown became a world of white!
In joy at last I chanced the breeze,
And danced among the stark black trees.
On stiffened fingertips, I race,
Across the snow without a trace.
All through the day I dance and twirl,
‘Til dizzy with the endless whirl,
I fetch up in a tent of green,
And on a sturdy trunk I lean.
The needle-leaves fresh fragrance sends,
With frozen tears the branch then bends.
I look at stars through crystal lens,
I settle down, and dream of friends.
NicknamedBob . . . . . October 19, 2006
Beautifully stated Bob. Thank you
Makes me want to go to sleep.
Lol!
Yay, Bob!
The goal is to make you not afraid to go to sleep.
Poets do strange things. They pretend that a day or a year can be interpreted as a lifetime. Time is endlessly malleable; it is softer than the favorite clay of a skilled potter.
I’ve seldom described it as such, but we as a species do not properly appreciate the time we are given. It is longer than for any other creature of similar size, and yet it is most tragically short.
We are all victims of Progeria. We should live nine hundred years, not ninety. It just might give us sufficient time and opportunity to learn patience and wisdom.
But in the mean time, to coin a phrase, we need to learn to appreciate the inexpressible wealth that every fleeting moment represents. The hum of every beat of a hummingbird’s wing is always perfectly in tune.
Awwww...Mom and her babies! So squeeful!
Good morning. I’m feeling overwhelmed, but I’ve had over three years to get the bulk of it done. The rest should be easy. So why am I panicking? Dunno.
Going to make the bed and have a breathing treatment. Maybe after that I’ll feel better.
Good morning. Cold rain here, nobody’s up except me.
Maybe you’re panicking because it’s the weekend, and there’s not much you can do until Monday. Breathe in, breathe out ...
A lot of what I need to do requires money and that means I have to wait for payday.
However, I’ve weeded through my files since I got up and have a 6” stack of papers to shred.
I need to figure out what to do with Beaker and Gonzo. The cage will have to ride in the moving truck because it’s too tall to fit in the BB SUV cargo hold. It looks like I’ll have to check with the vet’s office, but I’ll probably have to buy a smaller cage. The little cage I have for them is OK for short trips to the vet, but not for three hours, I don’t think.
There are two weeks left, and I think I can pull it together. The loading crew and driver are the problem. I’m not as young as I used to be, and crawling around on a car hauler isn’t as easy as it once was. The limberness in the joints has stiffened up.
Demon Hipster Avatar Ant with soul patch...as seen from electron scanning microscope...
Uh...just. no.
You couldn’t have used a “width=400” or something?
Eeeeew.
Compared to what they came from, a few hours in the little cage probably wouldn’t bother Beaker and Gonzo.
I finished cleaning the bottom of the pantry, but I can’t work on the shelves until after choir practice. Oh, well. It’s a start.
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