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The computer will see you now.

Artificial intelligence algorithms may soon bring the diagnostic know-how of an eye doctor to primary care offices and walk-in clinics, speeding up the detection of health problems and the start of treatment, especially in areas where specialized doctors are scarce. The first such program — trained to spot symptoms of diabetes-related vision loss in eye images — is pending approval by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration.

While other already approved AI programs help doctors examine medical images, there’s “not a specialist looking over the shoulder of [this] algorithm,” says Michael Abràmoff, who founded and heads a company that developed the system under FDA review, dubbed IDx-DR. “It makes the clinical decision on its own.”
IDx-DR and similar AI programs, which are learning to predict everything from age-related sight loss to heart problems just by looking at eye images, don’t follow preprogrammed guidelines for how to diagnose a disease. They’re machine-learning algorithms that researchers teach to recognize symptoms of a particular condition, using example images labeled with whether or not that patient had that condition.
IDx-DR studied over 1 million eye images to learn how to recognize symptoms of diabetic retinopathy, a condition that develops when high blood sugar damages retinal blood vessels (SN Online: 6/29/10). Between 12,000 and 24,000 people in the United States lose their vision to diabetic retinopathy each year, but the condition can be treated if caught early.
Researchers compared how well IDx-DR detected diabetic retinopathy in more than 800 U.S. patients with diagnoses made by three human specialists. Of the patients identified by IDx-DR as having at least moderate diabetic retinopathy, more than 85 percent actually did. And of the patients IDx-DR ruled as having mild or no diabetic retinopathy, more than 82.5 percent actually did, researchers reported February 22 at the annual meeting of the Macula Society in Beverly Hills, Calif.

IDx-DR is on the fast-track to FDA clearance, and a decision is expected within a few months, says Abràmoff, a retinal specialist at the University of Iowa in Iowa City. If approved, it would become the first autonomous AI to be used in primary care offices and clinics.

AI algorithms to diagnose other eye diseases are in the works, too. An AI described February 22 in Cell studied over 100,000 eye images to learn the signs of several eye conditions. These included age-related macular degeneration, or AMD — a leading cause of vision loss in adults over 50 — and diabetic macular edema, a condition that develops from diabetic retinopathy.

This AI was designed to flag advanced AMD or diabetic macular edema for urgent treatment, and to refer less severe cases for routine checkups. In tests, the algorithm was 96.6 percent accurate in diagnosing eye conditions from 1,000 pictures. Six ophthalmologists made similar referrals based on the same eye images.

Researchers still need to test how this algorithm fares in the real world where the quality of images may vary from clinic to clinic, says Aaron Lee, an ophthalmologist at the University of Washington in Seattle. But this kind of AI could be especially useful in rural and developing regions where medical resources and specialists are scarce and people otherwise wouldn’t have easy access to in-person eye exams.

AI might also be able to use eye pictures to identify other kinds of health problems. One algorithm that studied retinal images from over 284,000 patients could predict cardiovascular health risk factors such as high blood pressure.

The algorithm was 71 percent accurate in distinguishing eye images between smoking and nonsmoking patients, according to a report February 19 in Nature Biomedical Engineering. And it predicted which patients would have a major cardiovascular event, such as a heart attack, within the next five years 70 percent of the time.

With AI getting more adept at screening for a growing list of conditions, “some people might be concerned that this is machines taking over” health care, says Caroline Baumal, an ophthalmologist at Tufts University in Boston. But diagnostic AI can’t replace the human touch. “Doctors will still need to be there to see patients and treat patients and talk to patients,” Baumal says. AI will just help people who need treatment get it faster.

The seeds for Martian clouds may come from the dusty tails of comets.

Charged particles, or ions, of magnesium from the cosmic dust can trigger the formation of tiny ice crystals that help form clouds, a new analysis of Mars’ atmosphere suggests.

For more than a decade, rovers and orbiters have captured images of Martian skies with wispy clouds made of carbon dioxide ice. But “it hasn’t been easy to explain where they come from,” says chemist John Plane of the University of Leeds in England. The cloud-bearing layer of the atmosphere is between –120° and –140° Celsius — too warm for carbon dioxide clouds to form on their own, which can happen at about –220° C.
Then in 2017, NASA’s MAVEN orbiter detected a layer of magnesium ions hovering about 90 kilometers above the Martian surface (SN: 4/29/17, p. 20). Scientists think the magnesium, and possibly other metals not yet detected, comes from cosmic dust left by passing comets. The dust vaporizes as it hits the atmosphere, leaving a sprinkling of metals suspended in the air. Earth has a similar layer of atmospheric metals, but none had been observed elsewhere in the solar system before.

According to the new calculations, the bits of magnesium clump with carbon dioxide gas — which makes up about 95 percent of Mars’ atmosphere — to produce magnesium carbonate molecules. These larger, charged molecules could attract the atmosphere’s sparse water, creating what Plane calls “dirty” ice crystals.

At the temperatures seen in Mars’ cloud layer, pure carbon dioxide ice crystals are too small to gather clouds around them. But clouds could form around dirty ice at temperatures as high as –123° C, Plane and colleagues report online March 6 in the Journal of Geophysical Research: Planets.

The history of New England’s most damaging earthquake is written in the mud beneath a Massachusetts pond. Researchers identified the first sedimentary evidence of the Cape Ann earthquake, which in 1755 shook the East Coast from Nova Scotia to South Carolina. The quake, estimated to have been at least magnitude 5.9, took no lives but damaged hundreds of buildings.

Within a mud core retrieved from the bottom of Sluice Pond in Lynn, Mass., a light brown layer of sediment stands out amid darker layers of organic-rich sediment, the researchers report March 27 in Seismological Research Letters. The 2-centimeter-thick layer contains tiny fossils usually found near the shore, as well as types of pollen different from those found in the rest of the core. Using previous studies of the pond’s deposition rates, geologist Katrin Monecke of Wellesley College in Massachusetts and her colleagues determined the layer dates to between 1740 and 1810.
That light-brown layer is likely a turbidite, sediment jumbled up by a sudden lake slope failure, the study says. There are no other turbidites in the core, which spans about 400 years, suggesting the slopes held fast through floods and hurricanes. But the Cape Ann quake was likely a strong enough trigger to cause the slope failure.

Though the eastern United States is not at the seismically active edge of a tectonic plate, it has occasionally had its ground-shakers (SN Online: 8/23/11). The study suggests other East Coast lakes and ponds may contain evidence of prehistoric quakes, giving researchers a new way to estimate their frequency.

The Cape Ann quake also left its mark on the colonists, inspiring poems that suggested the temblor was a warning from a wrathful God. Harvard University scientist John Winthrop chronicled witness accounts of the quake in a 1757 paper to the Royal Society of London. “The earthquake began with a roaring noise,” Winthrop quoted one man as saying, “like thunder at a distance.”

A famous 4.4-million-year-old member of the human evolutionary family was hip enough to evolve an upright gait without losing any tree-climbing prowess.

The pelvis from a partial Ardipithecus ramidus skeleton nicknamed Ardi (SN: 1/16/10, p. 22) bears evidence of an efficient, humanlike walk combined with plenty of hip power for apelike climbing, says a team led by biological anthropologists Elaine Kozma and Herman Pontzer of City University of New York. Although researchers have often assumed that the evolution of walking in hominids required at least a partial sacrifice of climbing abilities, Ardi avoided that trade-off, the scientists report the week of April 2 in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.
“Ardi evolved a solution to an upright stance, with powerful hips for climbing that could fully extend while walking, that we don’t see in apes or humans today,” says Pontzer, who is also affiliated with CUNY’s Hunter College. Ardi’s hip arrangement doesn’t appear in two later fossil hominids, including the famous partial skeleton known as Lucy, a 3.2-million-year-old Australopithecus afarensis.

Ardi’s lower pelvis is longer than that of humans, which led some researchers to argue that Ardipithecus mainly climbed in trees and walked slowly with bent knees and hips, or perhaps not at all. But the new study shows it “would not have impeded its ability to walk upright in a humanlike fashion,” says paleoanthropologist Carol Ward of the University of Missouri in Columbia.
Unlike other hominids and living apes, Ardi’s upper pelvis is positioned behind the lower pelvis, enabling a straight-legged gait, Pontzer and his colleagues find. An evolutionary reorienting of the pelvis in that way enabled back muscles to support an upright spine, W­­ard suggests.
A relatively large gluteus maximus works with hamstring muscles to push humans into a straight-legged stance. Ardi may have had a small rear-end muscle for her size, making a forward-positioned lower pelvis especially critical for walking, Pontzer says.

Using previous data from present-day humans, chimps and monkeys, Pontzer’s group documented a relationship between the shape and orientation of the lower pelvis and the energy available for a range of motions involved in walking and climbing. They used those findings to examine fossil pelvises of Ardi, Lucy and a 2.5-million-year-old Australopithecus africanus. No other fossil hominids from that long ago included a pelvis complete enough for analysis.

The researchers also evaluated a nearly 18-million-year-old fossil pelvis from an African ape, Ekembo nyanzae.

A. afarensis and A. africanus displayed pelvic arrangements for upright walking, but not for Ardi’s apelike climbing power. In particular, the lower pelvis of the two Australopithecus species was nearly as short as the walking-specialized lower pelvis of people today. E. nyanzae’s pelvis was specialized for climbing, as in modern apes and monkeys. Its long, straight pelvis enabled walking with bent hips and knees.

The new study coincides with previous evidence that Ardi’s lower back was flexible enough to support straight-legged walking, says paleoanthropologist Owen Lovejoy of Kent State University in Ohio. Lovejoy, who led an initial investigation of Ardi’s lower-body bones, has long contended that ancient hominids had a humanlike gait (SN: 7/17/10, p. 5).

“A. afarensis and A. africanus walked much like we do, and for the most part that goes for Ardi as well,” Lovejoy says.

Ardi’s unusual mix of walking and climbing abilities spurred the evolution of hominid bodies geared toward minimizing lower-limb injuries, Lovejoy proposes. Ardi’s long lower pelvis and apelike, opposable big toe were replaced in Lucy’s kind by a short lower pelvis connected to smaller hamstring muscles, a humanlike big toe and a fully developed arch (SN: 3/12/11, p. 8). Those changes made climbing harder for A. afarensis, but stabilized its upright stance, helping to prevent foot injuries and hamstring tears when stopping suddenly or accelerating quickly, Lovejoy says.

Some seals still eat like landlubbers.

Just like lions, tigers and bears, certain kinds of seals have claws that help the animals grasp prey and tear it apart. X-rays show that the bones in these seals’ forelimbs look like those found in the earliest seals, a new study finds.

Ancestors of these ancient seals transitioned from land to sea at some point, preserving clawed limbs useful for hunting on land. But clawed paws in these northern “true seals,” which include harbor and harp seals, seem to be more than just a holdover from ancient times, says David Hocking, a marine zoologist at Monash University in Melbourne, Australia. Instead, retaining the claws probably helps northern true seals catch a larger meal than they could with the stiff, slippery fins of other pinnipeds such as sea lions and fur seals, Hocking and his colleagues report April 18 in Royal Society Open Science.
Hocking and his colleagues spent 670 hours observing wild harbor and gray seals hunting salmon in Scotland. Tests with three captive seals, two harbor seals born in captivity and one spotted seal born in the wild allowed the team to observe eating behaviors at closer range.
While some of the captive seals seemed to prefer swallowing their prey whole, both the wild and captive animals relied heavily on their claws overall, the scientists found. The critters were frequently spotted using their slashers to hold onto prey and rip off smaller bites, much as a land animal like a wolverine or a bear might. Up-close observations revealed seals caught prey underwater, but ripped it apart at the surface. That probably lets them breathe while eating without inhaling gulps of seawater — a challenge when devouring a large meal underwater.
Northern true seals have flexible joints that allow the animals to curl their claws to grasp prey. These flexible joints are also seen on early pinnipeds such as Enaliarctos mealsi, a seal that lived 23 million years ago, Hocking and his colleagues found. Fur seals and sea lions, however, “have inflexible fingers that help them to maintain a stiff flipper,” Hocking says.

The evolution of flipperlike forelimbs helped some pinnipeds propel themselves through the water more efficiently. But slippery flippers aren’t as useful for grasping prey. That could explain why fur seals and sea lions tend to target smaller fish that they can swallow whole underwater without needing to grasp, Hocking says.

But this fully aquatic feeding style might have been a challenge for the earliest pinnipeds, who probably used their clawed paws to hunt more like today’s true seals, the researchers say. Catching prey underwater and then shredding it at the surface was probably a smaller behavioral leap from full-on land feeding than other aquatic hunting strategies.

Documenting seals using their paws to grasp food is a “nice observation,” says Frank Fish, a biologist at West Chester University in Pennsylvania. Without knowing what early seals ate, though, it’s hard to say for sure whether they actively used their claws to hold onto large prey, he says.

Other scientists have documented true seals using their pawlike forelimbs in stereotypically terrestrial ways, too, such as using the claws to dig out lairs in ice or uncovering buried fish from the seafloor.

When it comes to tiny ocean swimmers, the whole is much greater than the sum of its parts. Ocean turbulence stirred up by multitudes of creatures such as krill can be powerful enough to extend hundreds of meters down into the deep, a new study suggests.

Brine shrimp moving vertically in two different laboratory tanks created small eddies that aggregated into a jet roughly the size of the whole migrating group, researchers report online April 18 in Nature. With a fluid velocity of about 1 to 2 centimeters per second, the jet was also powerful enough to mix shallow waters with deeper, saltier waters. Without mixing, these waters of different densities would remain isolated in layers.
The shrimp represent centimeter-sized swimmers, including krill and shrimplike copepods, found throughout the world’s oceans that may together be capable of mixing ocean layers — and delivering nutrient-rich deep waters to phytoplankton, or microscopic marine plants, near the surface, the researchers suggest.
“The original thinking is that these animals would flap their appendages and create little eddies about the same size as their bodies,” says John Dabiri, an expert in fluid dynamics at Stanford University. Previous work, including acoustic measurements of krill migrations
in the ocean ( SN: 10/7/06, p. 238 ) and theoretical simulations of fluid flow around swimmers such as jellyfish and shrimplike copepods ( SN: 8/29/09, p. 14 ), had suggested that they may be stirring up more turbulence than thought.
In 2014, Dabiri coauthored a study that debuted the laboratory tank setup also used in the new research. That paper noted that migrating brine shrimp created jets and eddies much larger than themselves. “But there was skepticism about whether those lab results were relevant to the ocean,” Dabiri says. The 2014 study didn’t account for how ocean water stratifies into layers that don’t easily mix, due to differences in salinity or temperature. It wasn’t clear if shrimp-generated turbulence could be strong enough and extend deep enough to overcome the physical barriers and mix the layers.

The new research used a 1.2-meter-deep tank and a 2-meter-deep tank. Each held tens of thousands of wiggly brine shrimp in two layers of water of different densities. The researchers used LED lights to prompt the shrimp to migrate upward or downward, mimicking the massive daily, vertical migrations of krill, copepods and other ocean denizens. The shrimp migrated in close proximity to one another – and that helped to magnify their individual efforts, the scientists found.

“As one animal swims upward, it’s kicking backward,” Dabiri says. That parcel of water then gets kicked downward by another nearby animal, and then another. The result is a downward rush that gets stronger as the migration continues, and eventually extends about as deep as the entire migrating group. In the ocean, that could be as much as hundreds of meters.“At the heart of the investigation is the question about whether life in the ocean, as it moves about the environment, does any important ‘mixing,’ ” says William Dewar, an oceanographer at Florida State University in Tallahassee. “These results argue quite compellingly that they do, and strongly counter the concern that most marine life is simply too small in size to matter.”

The team’s finding opens the door to a host of interesting questions, Dewar adds. Ocean mixing is an important part of the global climate cycle: It churns up nutrients that feed phytoplankton blooms and aids the exchange of gases with the atmosphere. Adding biologically driven mixing to physical processes in the ocean makes the equation even more complex, he says.

The next step will be to try to observe the effect at sea, using shipboard measurements, Dabiri says. “Previous studies looked for turbulence or eddies on the scale of the animals’ size,” he says, instead of large downward jets. “This paper tells us for the first time what to look for.”

Shooting small rocks from a high-speed cannon showed that some asteroids could have brought water to the early Earth — without all the water boiling away on impact, a new study finds.

“We can’t bring an asteroid to Earth and crash it into the Earth, bad things would happen,” says planetary geologist R. Terik Daly, who did the research while a graduate student at Brown University in Providence, R.I. “So we went into the lab and tried to re-create the event as best we can.”
After the solar system formed about 4.6 billion years ago, Earth grew up relatively close to the sun, where it was too hot for water to condense out of the gas phase. And Earth was too small to hold on to much nearby gas anyway. So scientists think the pale blue dot may have received its water from somewhere else — although exactly how that happened is still up for debate (SN: 5/16/15, p. 18).

Daly, now at Johns Hopkins University, and Brown planetary scientist Peter Schultz made marble-sized pellets of antigorite, a mineral found in Japan that is similar to the kinds of rocks that may have brought water to Earth billions of years ago. To simulate a dry planetary surface, the team baked pumice at 850° Celsius for 90 minutes. Then the team shot the pellets at the pumice at about 5 kilometers per second using the NASA Ames Vertical Gun Range in California.
That speed is similar to those at which asteroids probably crashed into each other when the planets were forming, Daly says. Previous simulations suggested that all of an asteroid’s water would vaporize upon impact if the asteroid had been traveling faster than 3.1 kilometers per second. On a planet like the early Earth, which lacked an atmosphere, that water vapor would then have been lost to space.
But Daly and Schultz found that some of the water vapor released by the pellets’ impacts was captured within glass created from shocked rock, or conglomerates of “busted-up” rocks called breccias. Asteroids could have delivered up to 30 percent of their stored water to growing planets, the scientists conclude April 25 in Science Advances.
The next step is working out how the water could escape from rocks to create oceans and other water bodies, Daly says.

“I really like this work,” says planetary scientist Yang Liu of NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, Calif., who was not involved in the study. “The experimental setup is very clever.”

Liu studies water in lunar material, and one frequent question about her work is how the moon can have water at all (SN: 10/24/09, p. 10). Earth’s nearest celestial neighbor lacks a thick atmosphere where vapor can accumulate, which means the moon should have had an even harder time keeping impact-delivered water than the Earth did.

“This work demonstrates that this is feasible even for airless bodies,” she says. The finding even suggests a way for future crewed missions to find water on the moon: “Perhaps we should just look for impact melts to get the water we need.”

Animal experiments demonstrate for the first time that transplanted tumors release a chemical into the host’s bloodstream that causes the host to produce blood vessels to supply the tumor.… If such a factor can be identified in human cancers … it might be possible to prevent the vascularization of tumors. Since tumors above a certain small size require a blood supply to live, they might by this method be starved to death. — Science News, May 4, 1968

Update
By the 1990s, starving tumors had become a focus of cancer research. Several drugs available today limit a tumor’s blood supply. But the approach can actually drive some cancer cells to proliferate, researchers have found. For those cancers, scientists have proposed treatments that open up tumors’ gnarled blood vessels, letting more oxygen through. Boosting oxygen may thwart some cancer cell defenses and promote blood flow — allowing chemotherapy drugs and immune cells deeper access to tumors (SN: 3/4/17, p. 24).

The world tracked the New Horizons’ spacecraft with childlike glee as it flew by Pluto in 2015. The probe provided the first ever close-up of the place that many of us grew up considering the ninth planet. Pluto revealed itself as a fascinating world, with a shifting surface (SN: 12/26/15, p. 16), a hazy atmosphere (SN Online: 10/15/15) and a heart of nitrogen ice (SN Online: 9/23/16).
But the course of space exploration never did run smooth. In Chasing New Horizons, Alan Stern ­— New Horizons’ principal investigator and chief champion — and his coauthor, team member David Grinspoon, share their recollections of how a band of scrappy planetary scientists got a mission to the farthest reaches of the solar system off the ground. Over the course of a decade and a half, Stern and colleagues in the “Pluto Underground” fought first to get a Pluto mission taken seriously by NASA, then to keep it alive through budget woes, political battles, stiff competition from other mission proposals and outright cancellations.

Even if you followed the flyby closely and think you know this story, the book divulges details that will surprise you. Come for the sweeping tale of wonder and exploration; stay for the gaggle of planetary scientists celebrating on Bourbon Street once their mission finally got the green light.

Science News talked with Stern about the book, what it’s like to be “Mr. Pluto” and what’s next for New Horizons, which is currently in hibernation cruising through the Kuiper Belt. The interview that follows has been edited for length and clarity.
SN: Almost half of the book is about the fight to get the New Horizons mission approved. Why was it important for you to focus on that?
Stern: If you look at the 26-year span, from 1989 [the year the American Geophysical Union meeting devoted the first conference session to the subject of a Pluto mission] to 2015 when we got there, almost precisely half of that time was back and forth trying to get a mission to Pluto.

It’s rare for the public to get to see the behind the scenes of how difficult it is — how much competition there is, how many things come out of left field, how much scientists with a goal or objective in mind really have to have persistence to make it happen.

SN: You write that by the time the mission teams were being assembled, you were already known as Mr. Pluto. When did you start feeling like Mr. Pluto yourself?

Stern: Somewhere in the ʼ90s, when we were going through this maze of twists and turns to get a mission to Pluto. Every time we’d have a reversal, and I’d have to go fight for it again, I started to feel like I was putting on my Mr. Pluto hat.

I’m typecast that way now. You know, I’ve been on 29 different space missions, to almost every planet in the solar system. Only one of them was to Pluto, but that’s the one, maybe the only one, I’m known for. It’s like being on the cast of Gilligan’s Island, they only remember you for the one thing, no matter how much else you’ve done. Which is fine [laughs]. I love Pluto, no question, but it’s not like that’s all I did in the past three decades.

SN: What’s next for New Horizons?

Stern: We emerge from an almost six-month hibernation period on June 4. Our next flyby is taking place on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day with a small Kuiper Belt object that we’ve nicknamed Ultima Thule, which is a building block of planets like Pluto.

It’s going to just be spectacular, scientifically. And so our team is really up to our eyeballs in flyby planning and preparations.

SN: How long can the spacecraft keep going after that?

Stern: New Horizons has the fuel and power to go on for decades, and it’s very healthy. And there’s a lot more science to do in the Kuiper Belt. In fact, there is some science that the spacecraft is capable of doing that no other spacecraft can. There are some kinds of unique astrophysics that even the James Webb [Space Telescope, due to launch in 2020] and the Hubble can’t do, that we can do.

New Horizons is really is an amazing resource. There’s no other spacecraft planned to fly to these great distances again. So we want to make sure that science benefits to the maximum extent.

SN: There’s a scene in the book, right before the Pluto flyby, when a journalist asks how you’re going to feel at the end of the mission — will there be a sort of grief at the culmination of all this work. Now that you’re on the other side, how does it feel?

Stern: A lot of people in the mission team, as we were finally bearing down on Pluto, started to express that kind of concern. Frankly, we’d been so busy I didn’t have time to think philosophically about “what after.” I was thinking about catching up on my sleep, seeing my family more, what discoveries would we make. But I wasn’t thinking about, what do you do after your Apollo 11? What do you do after you’ve scaled your Everest?

As it turns out, a lot of those concerns just sort of washed away with the success of the flyby and the spectacular scientific discoveries at Pluto. Now I and other people on our team look back on it and say, “I was a part of something that really made a difference.” You can’t ask for much more than that.

Synthetic nanoparticles used to fight cancer could also heal sickly plants.

The particles, called liposomes, are nanosized, spherical pouches that can deliver drugs to specific parts of the body (SN: 12/16/06, p. 398). Now, researchers have filled these tiny care packages with fertilizing nutrients. The new liposomes, described online May 17 in Scientific Reports, soak into plant leaves more easily than naked nutrients. That allows the nanoparticles to give malnourished crops a more potent pick-me-up than the free-floating molecules in ordinary nutrient spray.
Each liposome is a hollow sphere about 100 nanometers across, and is made of fatty molecules extracted from soybean plants. Once a plant leaf absorbs these nanoparticles, the liposomes spread to cells in the plant’s other leaves and its roots, where the fatty envelopes break down and release their molecular cargo.
Researchers first exposed tomato plants to either liposomes packed with a rare earth metal called europium, or free-floating europium molecules. Europium doesn’t naturally exist in plants or soil, so it’s easy to trace how much of this element plants soaked up after treatment. Three days after exposure, plants treated with liposomes had absorbed up to 33 percent of the nanoparticles. Plants exposed to free-floating europium took in less than 0.1 percent of the molecules
The researchers then spritzed iron- and magnesium-deficient tomato plants with either a standard spray containing iron and magnesium, or a solution containing liposomes packed with those nutrients. Two weeks later, the leaves on plants treated with free-floating nutrients were still tinged yellow and curled. Plants that received liposome treatment sported healthy, green leaves.

Avi Schroeder, a chemical engineer at the Israel Institute of Technology in Haifa, and colleagues don’t know exactly why liposomes are more palatable to plants than plain nutrients. But sprays that contain nutrient-loaded liposomes could help farmers rejuvenate frail plants more efficiently than existing mixtures, Schroeder says.

Liposome-based spray would need to be tested on a variety of vegetation before it could enter widespread use, says Ramesh Raliya, a nanobiotechnology researcher at Washington University in St. Louis not involved in the work. That’s because the pores on leaves where liposomes are assumed to enter plants can range from 50 to 150 nanometers across. If a plant’s pores are smaller than 100 nanometers, the liposomes can’t squeeze inside.

Mariya Khodakovskaya, a biologist at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock, is wary of the potential cost of this new technique. Fashioning liposomes is expensive. That’s not a problem for making liposome-based medication, which requires only a small amount of nanoparticles. But for any new agricultural practice to take root, she says, “it has to be massive, and it has to be cheap.”