“It’s very hard to grow a tree,” he said. “Just like it’s very hard to grow a person.”

“Well” my brother said, “if you and mom could grow me, I can grow a tree.” He was eleven at the time.

By the end of the summer, only one of his sprouts was still alive. He’d forgotten what kind of tree it was – in his enthusiasm, he hadn’t time for labels. On a Sunday in early September, after church, my family went out to our backyard with hand shovels and a rake. On our hands and knees, we took turns digging in the soft, wet earth. It was a warm day, and the late-season sun spilled like gold filigree through the leaves of our large oak tree. My brother and father, rich earth worked into the fissures of their hands, tenderly planted the sapling. I could tell, by my father’s face, that he didn’t give the tree a chance. But my brother believed completely, and when the planting was finished to his satisfaction, he stood and said a prayer, a brief benediction and blessing for our house.

He spent that autumn tending to the sapling. He would water it daily, and measure its progress with a ruler. Against all odds, it continued to grow.

So, too, did my brother. As the years passed, and the tree grew thicker, my brother grew taller. He fell in love, had his heart broken, lost his way. By the time he left home, seven years later, the tree had grown into a healthy, albeit small, tree. It had claimed its unceremonious space in our backyard. But it hadn’t borne fruit, and we had mostly forgotten to notice that the tree was there. We still had no idea what kind of tree it was.

“A defective tree,” my father said one night, bitterly. “A tree incapable of growing fruit.” My brother had been gone a year then, and we heard word of him sparingly – a postcard from Louisiana, or a phone call from a hotel in Oklahoma. I left home the next year. I took my first trip to Paris, where I fell in love with the city, and a woman, my future wife. Another year passed, and my brother and I did not speak.

When I received word that my brother had died in a car crash in Texas, I was living in the south of Spain with my wife. She was pregnant by then, a small sapling growing inside her, and when I hung up the phone on my father, the first thing I thought of was what my brother had said all those years before: There’s a whole tree in this little seed. I looked at her and thought: There’s a whole person in this little seed. Then, naturally, I cried.

It was late June. We arrived in Philadelphia just in time for the funeral. It was a small affair at a church outside the city, on a small plot of land overlooking a creek. The grave had already been dug, the fresh earth piled high beside it. I remembered my brother’s small hands, their crevices grooved with dirt. Afterwards we returned to our house. It had grown quiet in the years since my brother and I had left, and my parents would soon sell it.

That night at dusk, my father took me out to the backyard. “I have something to show you,” he said. We walked barefoot through the grass, the cicadas murmuring in the dense, sultry summer air. When we got to my brother’s tree, I noticed something moist and wet beneath my foot. I knelt down. It was a plum. There were plums all over the ground, and more on the tree.

“It’s the first year it blossomed,” my father said. “I couldn’t believe it.”

We roamed through the gloaming, prospecting the luscious, purple globes from the low branches, biting into the soft flesh, the juices spilling down our chins. They tasted good. As I ate, I picked out the seeds, put a few of them in my pocket. They came with me on the plane back to Spain. I planted them in cups all over our house, much to my wife’s amusement. I watered them diligently, checked them daily for growth. When we planted one of the seedlings at the end of the summer, my wife’s stomach was already large, and while I worked in the earth, she sat on our porch and watched. “It will never grow,” she called out to me. “Seedlings never grow.”

As I write this, our son is playing in our backyard, his small, growing body shaded by the small, growing branches of a plum sapling.

It is springtime, and soon I will expand and open up to see the bright face of the sun. Sunlight is a source of my food and the service I do. The more sunrays that hit my surface, the faster I grow, and will generate a great need of life on Earth: oxygen. To the unappreciative eye, I am just a leaf, but the complexity of my reactions are still a great puzzle to scientists who work in large institutions trying to understand the processes going on inside me. It takes them many years to fully comprehend a single step in the process of oxygen generation that takes place within me.

Although I am very simple, thin, and fragile, I have been charged with a great service. During the entire summer, I endure the heat of the sun without drying up or wilting. This is because I am constantly fed with a flow of water and minerals from my branch, which was soaked up from the tree’s roots embedded deep in the Earth. This constant flow of water enables me to keep upright, sturdy, and open. Most of the water is evaporated through my thin surface, but a small part of it is broken up to provide you with the oxygen that you need to survive. Although this sounds very simple, it requires a great deal of energy. This energy is provided to me through the sun and the sugars that are made in me during this process.

When no water falls from the clouds, I suffer. I cannot keep upright to provide you with the oxygen that you need. When it is too hot and there is no rain, I suffer again. Were it not for the babies, the old, and the weak among you, I would dry out completely. When human beings oppress each other, I suffer, because under these conditions water does not fall to Earth despite the clouds in the sky. These clouds also block the sunshine that I need to serve you with oxygen.

Right now it is autumn in many places and although I did not dry up in the hot months of the summer, I am now ordered to wither and fall. My color changes from green to yellow, orange, red, and finally brown. As I drop to the ground, people step on me. I get crushed and grinded to pieces as I return back to Earth. The matter used to create me mixes with the soil, until next spring, when I will be high up on the branch looking at you one more time, reminding you of a new beginning after death.

we wait. The sun steady

in its track. Vicissitudes

of light, shadows thinning,

growing long. We endure

and wait. Salvation in

the hour before the hour

before dusk. The seedlings

come twirling down,

skittering along the street.

The shadows quiver like

benevolent ghosts. The trees

cackle their sussurant laugh.

And we, impatient, sentient

beings, wish time to be inert.

In order to answer these questions, let’s first take a closer look at the nature of leaves and how they function. Simply put, leaves are nature’s food factories. During spring and summer the leaves serve as factories where most of the food necessary for tree growth is manufactured. The process of transforming water and carbon dioxide into sugar is called photosynthesis, which means literally “putting together with light” (Figure 1). This food-making process is performed by the chlorophyll molecules that are present in the leaf cells. Chlorophyll absorbs energy from sunlight. While the water is sucked in from the soil by the roots and carbon dioxide is inhaled through the pores of the leaves, chlorophyll synthesizes carbohydrates, such as sugars and starch. During winter, when this process cannot continue due to lack of light or water, the trees rest and live off the food they stored during the summer.

What is most astonishing is that it is again chlorophyll that gives the leaves their green color. Along with the chlorophylls (green pigment), spectrums of pigments, such as carotenoid, anthocyanin, and xanthophyll, give different colors to the leaves (Figure 2). When chlorophyll is abundant in the leaf cells, as it is during the growing season, the green color of chlorophyll dominates and masks the colors of any other coloring pigments that may be present in the leaf. Thus, the leaves of summer are characteristically green. When for some reason the number of chlorophylls decreases significantly, the color of other pigments paint the leaves, such as in the fall. For example, maple and acer leaves turn to bright red because of the carotenoid and anthocyanin pigments while sugar maple leaves turn yellow due to xanthophyll pigments.

Time to change colors

At the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, the length of days and the average temperature begin to decrease. Then the trees “know” that it is time to get ready for winter, their sleep-time, and the leaves stop making food. Since there is no longer a need for them, the chlorophyll molecules break down, and so the green color begins to fade. As we, the grieving viewers of this process, say farewell to the color of life, we are surprised by the splendor demonstrated by vibrant colors ranging from yellow to orange.

All these colors are due to the mixing of varying amounts of the chlorophyll residue and other pigments in the leaf becoming visible during the fall season. For the realization of this beauty, mixtures of pigments give rise to the reddish and purplish fall colors of trees such as dogwoods and sumacs, while others offer the sugar maple its brilliant orange or yellow. In some trees, like the maple, a red pigment will be formed in the fall if the days are warm and the nights cold. These trees produce sugar in the leaves during the day, but this sugar cannot move out when the nights are cold, and the leaf’s connections to the tree begin to break down. After that the high sugar concentration favors the formation of a class of pigments called anthocyanin, which is red. Thus, the leaves left out in the sunlight turn red through this process. The brown color of trees (like oaks) that appears after chlorophyll breaks down comes from plant wastes left in the leaves. The autumn foliage of some trees is only yellow, so it is the combination of all these things that makes the beautiful colors we enjoy in the fall.

Thanks to scientific research, today we know the details of leaf color change. The approximate size of these pigments is so small that hundreds of millions of them, put edge to edge, could measure only 1 meter. Isn’t it amazing how the beauty of autumn is exhibited through the hands of such small and blind painters?

Abdullah Akpinar is a graduate student in Planning and Landscape Architecture at Clemson University, Southern Carolina.

On the face of the Earth, mountain regions are defined as areas more than 1000 m in elevation. Although mountains cover only 27% of the total land area of the planet, the percentage of the world population who are dependant on the mountains is much larger. In terms of water dependency, about 70% of the population uses water originated in the mountains. This ratio becomes close to 100% in arid regions. Interestingly, the water towers of the world are generally located in the arid regions of the world. It is not unusual to see an arid lowland region with a big river crossing it. These regions are usually connected to a nearby mountain from which the river originated. The significance of the mountains is mentioned in the Bible as the following: “For the Lord is the great God, the great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him. The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land” (Psalm 95:3-5).

All great rivers of the world originate in mountains. For example, the arid region of Central Asia is watered by the Tarek, Amu Darya, and Tarim Rivers. All of the big rivers of China and India originate in Tibet. Pakistan is dependant on the Indus River. Asia Minor and Northern Arabian Peninsula are supplied by Euphrates and Tigris Rivers while Northern Africa is supplied by Nile River. All Australian waters are supplied by rivers originating from eastern highlands, and Europe is supplied by the Po, Rhine, and Tiber Rivers, which originate in mountainous areas. This makes mountain water strategically important in these areas, and in fact, some countries prefer to keep their need of mountain water a secret!

Here it is worth discussing the global water cycle in order to understand the peculiar role of the mountains. All of the precipitation onto land comes from evaporation on land and oceans. A significant portion of the land precipitation goes back to seas and oceans via river discharge every year. And the main source of fresh water for humans and other living organisms comes from rivers. For low-land precipitation (as opposed to mountain precipitation) the discharge happens rather quickly, within weeks. Therefore, humans build dams in order keep the water for longer periods of time. Another longer term solution to keep more water on land is planting trees, which benefits not only humans but all other living creatures!

For mountains, the water cycle works quite differently. Since the mountains are in high elevations, precipitation starts early in the late fall and continues until the end of spring. The river discharge does not begin until early summer. Especially in arid regions, the low-land discharge mostly diminishes by early spring, and no predictions can be made as to how arid the coming summer will be. On the other hand, because of lower temperatures in the mountains, evaporation is also minimal, which makes them efficient natural storages. At the end of spring when the lowland precipitation starts to diminish, the mountain water discharge begins in a steady manner and continues during the entire summer season. When we look at the yearly usage of water even in a humid region like Europe, more than 50% of the water during the hottest and driest months of June and July is released from the Alps. This percentage is more than 95% in arid regions of the world, such as Mesopotamia and North Africa. The Holy Quran mentions the storage of bounties, including water, explicitly as the following: “There is not a thing but the stores (for its life and sustenance) are with Us, and We do not send it down except in due, determined measure. And we send the winds to fertilize; and so We send down water from the sky, and give it to you to drink; it is not you who are the keepers of its stores” (15/21-22).

Since lowland water discharge is mainly controlled by precipitation, it is also unpredictable and rather quick. This is particularly inconvenient for farmers who have to make business plans for the entire of the year ahead of time. The knowledge of yearly precipitation is vital for farmers to make reliable investments. In lowland areas, prediction of water distribution months in advance is very difficult, and almost impossible before it actually precipitates! (In fact, an area of geological sciences is devoted to forecasting precipitation. This is also important for preventing causalities in potential floods). On the other hand, mountain discharge offers stability during the year, which makes life much easier for farmers.

Mountains are generally seen in our distant horizons of our living areas with their magnificence and silence. They have many benefits that we may or may not be aware of. Indeed they are the water towers of the world.

H. Huseyin Erdem is an earth scientist living in the USA.

Note

1. More discussion on this topic may be found in The Risale-i Nur Collection (e.g., see The Words, 33rd Word) by Bediuzzaman Said Nursi.

References

1. Wiegandt, Ellen (Ed.), Mountains: Sources of Water, Sources of Knowledge, The Netherlands: Springer, 2009.
2. B. Messerli and J.D. Ives (Ed’s), Mountains of the World: A Global Priority, Parthenon Pub., 1997.

Water has a vital role in maintaining the life of the cell. For example, 70% of the human body consists of water; also, approximately 70% of the earth is formed of water. Chemical reactions happening inside cells take place in liquid environments; in other words, life activities have been made to depend on water.

While water has such a vital importance for creatures, is there any living being that can live without water? The answer to this question is yes. For example, the African Lungfish (Protopterus), which is created with this special quality, can live without water for four years in hard times.

It is well-known that bears go into hibernation as a result of a God-given instinct during the winter cold. Storing necessary energy as fat in their bodies in order not to freeze, decreasing their body metabolism to the minimum rate, and being guided to choose a place to be protected from the cold during winter hibernation are important features bestowed on these living beings.

Another special features bestowed on some animals is the capacity for summer hibernation. This sleep is a marvelous quality that enables some animals to be able to live in hot and dry climates. Summer hibernation is the process of spending very hot summer days between sleep and lethargy in order to handle hard circumstances. A kind of silence is felt in the whole of nature during the extremely hot months of summer. This silence is caused by animals being in their summer sleep. Lungfish is one of those animals. There are various types of lungfish around the world: Queensland Lungfish (Neoceratodus forsteri), which is as long as 6 feet and which lives in the Burnett and Mary rivers in Australia; African Lungfish living Central Africa; 6 feet long Protopterus aethiopicus; 4 feet long P.dolloi; P. amphibious, which is written to be longer than 13 feet in some records; and Lepidosiren paradoxa living in South America.

Quite a lot is known about the summer sleep of the lungfish in Africa (Dipnoi). When the river water which flows from the treasures of God’s mercy is withdrawn during the summer months, the lungfish, which sink into wet clay by God-given instict, wait for a drawn back of water in a state of lethargy with having very low metabolisms. The fishes open a hole for themselves on the mud (down rivers and lakes) when rivers and lakes start to dry. When the mud goes into a drying process, specially featured mucous membrane that are put onto fishes’ skins start to work fast and fishes’ bodies are covered by a secreted mucus-like adhesive substance like a water-resistant cocoon. Fishes can stay alive by sleeping about 7-8 months during deadly summer hots with the amount of accumulated water inside cocoons. Although many fishes obtain the necessary oxygen through their gills, lungfish are created with an interesting special feature. The thin membrane bladders (gas bladders) that are responsible for regulating water level in other fishes are organized into a kind of breathing organ in the lungfishes by equipping with large amount of blood vessels in order to perform like lungs. God the Almighty can make different organs (analog organ) perform similar tasks as He does make similar organs (homolog organ) perform different tasks. None of these organs, which are created as the manifestation of God’s eternal knowledge and omnipotence, are characterized as being developed by their own through coincidental mutations. In contrast, every organ is created in the most appropriate character and capability to ensure maintenance of animals’ lives in the best way. Otherwise, we had to imagine those fishes that could know dry season with every aspects and that have the capacity and knowledge to change their organs as they want.

How do the fishes living in a water-resistant and durable cocoon obtain the necessary oxygen for themselves? The hole kept inside mud is used to get oxygen when oxygen inside cocoon reduced. The cocoon’s membrane made from mucus protects the little amount of water around the fish in mud but does not block the oxygen transition. While the dried mud works like a turbot against sun lights, the hole on the wall is kept. The lungfishes shrink around 1 inch during the summer sleep, since they use (burn) some of their fat and muscle tissue. When rains start and water fills lakes and rivers, the mud turbot that keeps lungfish dissolves; and the lungfish starts to continue its normal life in water.

Hibernators are intensely active in summer. A part of that activity is building temporary burrows for summer use only. Ground squirrels, (Spermophilus citellus) for example, can build hundreds of such temporary shelters over a single summer, on average 15 shelters in a 10m2 area of open field. These shelters have only the one nest compartment, usally between 30 and 50cm below ground level. By contrast, their shelters for hibernation, sometimes as much as 3m below ground level, are intended for long, repeated use and contain a number of compartments-one for storing large quantites of food (usally dry seeds), one for use as a ‘toilet’, and a third for sleeping.

Before hibernation, animals prepare themselves for the hardship of the very long period of cold by storing up large amounts of fat in adipose tissue under the skin, up to some 40 % of total body weight. These fats are composed of fatty acids which typically have ten or fewer than ten carbon atoms and are consturcted with some double bonds between the carbon atoms of the chain and their esters with glycerides. These compounds provide the ideal energy source needed during hibernation because lipids yield twice the energy yielded by carbohydrates and proteins. Moreover, these fatty acids need very little oxygen in their degradation/conversion to energy.

Blood circulation and homeostasis during hibernation are not well understood. The animal steadies body temperature at around 2°C to 5°C: in mammals the body temperature remains about 1°C above environmental temperature. Usally, when body temperature falls to this level, metabolic rate is increased or the animal awakes, but during hibernation this does not happen. Metabolic rate at 5°C is usually 2-5% of the rate at normal body temperature. For example, the active heart rate of the genus Myotis of bats is between 500 and 700 beats per minute. During hibernation the rate goes down to 20 beats per minute at 5°C, and 8 beats at -7°C. Two consistent and characteristic changes are found in blood during hibernation: an increased production of herapin, which may be contributing to a reduction in the risk of blood clotting during very slow circulation, and an increase in serum magnesium, for which there is no explanation as yet.

Many different types of respiratory patterns have been observed during the state of hibernation. We will mention only one example here: The hedgehog, at a body temperature of 5°C, does not breathe at all for an amazing 56 minutes.

In controlled observations, it has been found that animals which hibernate show improved retention of learned behaviour compared to non-hibernating animals. Again, it is not at all clear why this should be so.

Hibernation is not a prolonged period of constant torpor. There are periodic arousals during winter caused by the accumulation of metabolic end products or having a full bladder. The awakening process is often assisted by shivering, especially when the body temperature is very low. Awakening is a costly process because it takes as much energy to wake up as it does to stay in hibernation for ten days. The ground squirrel, Spermophilus citellus gains around 150-200 g of fat before hibernation. That is more than enough for the energy being used up during sleep; the excess is needed for the wakening up intervals which occur fortnightly.

A number of hypotheses have sought to explain how hibernation is triggered-changes in weather and climate, temperature, humidity and change of diet are among the suggestions. Apart from these causes, a protein was isolated from the blood of a hibernator bear in the USA in the 1980s which, when injected into rats appeared to induce sleeping behaviour in summer. Today it remains uncertain if this protein is the only stimulator of hibernation. If it is, we still need to know what other conditions are related to the protein level and its effect and how the level of protein is maintained at the right level during the animal’s life cycle.

What is already securely known about hibernation establishes it as a truly amazing physiological phenomenon. It tells us that the body temperature of some hibernators will passively adjust ambient tempeature from between 2°C to 32°C without causing awakening. The inevitable question is what advantage such behaviour affords the hibernating animals. Some small animals, because of their high metabolic rates are faced with an acute need for a continuously available supply of food and water. Controlled investigations show that dormant animals at cool temperatures lose much less weight than the non-dormant ones. It has also been shown that small animals can survive for at least a hundred days on the energy derived from ten grams of fat. Hibernation is, in other words, a survival technique, an adaptation to the conditions of poor or non-existent food supply during the winter months.

That is, however, something of a mechanical explanation which, even as a mechanical explanation, is far from satisfactory. The secondary question immediately arises of why this particular adaptation and not another-why not migration, for example, to areas where winter does not affect food supply so drastically? There are many birds and other animals which take this option.

A more satisfying explanation must surely consider what adaptability itself is, how it relates to the variety of life-forms, to the individuation of species and kinds, and to the overwhelming intution (which must touch any truly objective observer) that, at levels of subtlety and intricacy which defy comprehension, the survival and provision of each and every living form is minutely arranged and co-ordinated to create a whole that is thoroughly interconnected. The value of that whole is manifested in many different aspects-beauty, variety, efficiency, the rich warmth of life. Is it not impossible to resist the impression of a wonderful generosity within and behind the world of living forms?