Island Press Field Notes

In spite of the wintry landscape, the steady tap-tap-tap of maple sap dripping into a bucket announces spring with greater assurance than the calendar.  Black-capped chickadees have been si

Ed. note: Gary Nabhan was recently given the honor of presenting the biennial Vavilov Memorial Lecture in Moscow and offering a similar lecture in Saint Petersburg, and was further honored with the gift of the Vavilov Medal. These are his reflections after years of retracing Vavilov through the centers of food diversity, while writing the book Where Our Food Comes From, and after spending time with the staff of the Vavilov General Genetics Institute in Moscow, and VIR in Saint Petersburg.

Nowadays when I see bees in my garden, I pay close attention. I have noticed at least four different types. They buzz purposely—so focused on the periwinkle blue flowers of my rosemary hedge. I crouch down to examine their fuzzy bodies and the gorgeous floral interiors that are the center of their apian attention. The wondrous dance of bees and flowers has been evolving for millions of years, but in the past few, it has it become frighteningly tenuous.

At climate talks in Poland last week, delegates considered the issue of farm emissions. Globally farm animals generate 18 percent of greenhouse gasses—that's more than cars, planes, and buses. According to The New York Times ("As more eat meat, a bid to cut emissions"), delegates considered some technological solutions, such as converting waste methane gas into an energy source. This elegant approach has already shown great promise.