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Breeding slippers seems easy.  After all, if an insect can do it, certainly you ought to be able to, right?

Of course, a breeder is going to select parents with desirable traits to pass on to progeny, in the elusive quest to produce a “superior” plant.  The process for getting these superior plants is pretty straightforward, no mysteries here.  In fact, you can choose from two different alternatives: A) Make or B) Buy.  Most people make life simple, and choose “B”.

Some people, usually egotistical and misguided, select “A” (like me).  They think they can do the job better than a bug.  Well, here’s what you have to go through:

How to Make an Orchid with Prize-Winning Potential

1) Start with a bunch of parents with excellent potential, preferably ones that could win prizes (if you’re into garnering prizes) and do a number of crosses.  Keep in mind that just because you have two parents is absolutely NO GUARANTEE that you will get a successful seed capsule from crossing them.  So, you’ll need a few different parents.  Six potential parents is a good number.  Let’s assume you already have those plants today.  [Total time elapsed: 0 years]

2) Grow these plants so that they’re strong and can handle carrying a seed capsule or two.  (This process could take a few years right here.)  We’ll generously assume this only takes one year. [Time required: 1 year]

3) When they’ve flowered, do your crosses, but remember that even top breeders only expect 50% of crosses to produce a seed capsule.

4) Once it looks like some of your plants have mated successfully, you can begin the next step: hope.  You can start hoping that your plants will pollinate successfully and carry their seed capsules to maturity.  Expect about 50% of your seed capsules to abort.  [Time required: 0.5 years (probably longer, though)]

5) Of the seed capsules that DO make it, you can germinate onto agar either yourself or through a flasking service.  Then you can start hoping again, since not all your seed capsules will germinate (i.e., result in actual plants).  Expect again that 50% of your seed capsules result in little or no germination.  [Time required: 0.5 years]

6) Hopefully, you’ll get some germination and can then make some flasks with baby plants! [Time required: 1 year]

7) To see some really good flowers, grow and flower at least 100 from each cross.  Be sure you have enough greenhouse space (and money to keep it running).  You can expect ~2 - 3% to have flowers that are better than the parents.  And remember that some of your crop will flower the year after the first bunch blooms.  [Time required: 3 years (that’s an average, depends on species)]

So your total time elapsed if you were to choose the “Make” option is 6 years, on average.  You could drop step 2 and save a year, but you might run the risk of losing some good stud plants.

The above analysis, of course, doesn’t count the costs of actually doing all that work, and it is not insignificant.  I’ll leave it as an exercise to the reader to figure out their own costs for greenhouse space, supplies, flasking, time, and effort which will vary depending on locale.  If you live in Thailand (or parts of Hawaii) bordering the jungle, you probably only need to spend money on flasking, as the jungle will handle everything else for you quite nicely.  If you live in Michigan, your costs will be higher.

(In case you missed it, there’s already a built-in problem with the “Make” option in Step 1: Where do you get the stud plants in the first place?  Isn’t that just the same as the “Buy” option?)

Slipper orchid breeding is a long, hard slog.  But a very satisfying one!

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In this heretofore long-winded explanation of what happens when a plant “rests” for a season, we’ve reviewed some basic molecular biology.  Hopefully concepts like cells, molecules, DNA, and enzymes are more clear now.  If not, here’s a one sentence refresher:

Cells are biological units containing many kinds of molecules, DNA being a specific kind that tells the cell how to make enzymes, the molecules that do the work of a cell.

One thing that cells (and hence the organism they are a part of) do is adjust to changing conditions.  And in nature, nothing is more constant than the changing of seasons.   When winter approaches, certain enzymes of the cell monitor the shortening of days and the drop in temperature marking the approach of cooler weather.

Your typical enzyme molecule works with others of its same kind in a sort of gang on an assembly line, getting handed some tweaked molecule from the enzyme upstream,  which they then tweak themselves, and then passing it to the next guy down the line.  Sometimes, believe it or not, the enzymes tweak themselves and pass themselves down the assembly line!

Here’s a classic clip from I Love Lucy that I hope will illustrate the assembly line-like nature of biological processes:

Of course, if you’ve read my previous post, you’ll know that the assembly line analogy falls apart at some point, too, since what you really have are swarms/clouds of a specific enzyme type overlapping in 3-dimensional space other clouds of enzymes or reactants, all carrying on their highly specific work by randomly bumping into each other.  Yes, biology is very, very complex.  (And that’s why there’s still no cure for cancer despite the billions and billions of dollars spent on research.)

Anyways, back to the weather: how do enzymes “know” that seasons are changing?  After all, they don’t actually think, do they?  No, enzymes don’t think.  But they do react — and by react, I mean they are involved in chemical reactions.  And when, say, the temperature-monitoring enzymes experience a change in temperature, they fail to react in the way they usually do.  This makes all the difference in the world.

You can think of the cell as a vast array of different assembly lines/swarms manufacturing and reacting and moving all manner of molecules.  The temperature induced change in reaction rate gets transmitted down the line in what is like a giant Rube Goldberg contraption of mind-boggling complexity, until it reaches some central switch enzyme that controls the change-of-seasons genetic program.  In other words, the information about changing seasons is conveyed to this central switch enzyme, which then turns on all the enzymes that are needed for colder (or warmer) weather or when it’s time to put up a flower.  Just as a football team changes from offense to defense to special teams, so a plant has enzymes for spring, and enzymes for winter (or their relative equivalents in tropical slipper orchid country).

So back to the original question: what happens when you let your plants rest?

My answer is that the plant changes a genetic program.  It’s not because you might otherwise grow them to death.  Plants are designed to grow: that’s what they do.  But part of their growth cycle requires a switch to a different seasonal genetic program, which entails production of a bunch of different enzymes.  And the plant likely needs those enzymes to get made and do their thing for long-term health.

It’s kind of like those claims that your plants (or you) need trace elements such as selenium or molybdenum for health.  Some species of orchids need the change in seasons to cause the change in genetic program to cause the production of certain enzymes to do specific things so they’ll grow well and put up a flower for you.

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