When he needed to put his advanced degrees in molecular biology to use - while researching genetic weed-control - he approached scientists at Washington State University and wound up on the Board of Regents and creating two new varieties of soft white winter wheat.
A Hardy Strain
Up in the highlands east of the Okanogan Valley, Goldmark crunches down a gravel road toward a field of ripened wheat. This is the main road in his neighborhood, miles of gravel bending up and over rises and around corners, the kind of road you can stand in all day and never worry about getting run over.
Sun sinking through a sky yellow with smoke from forest fires, Goldmark wades into the wheat like a swimmer sloshing waist-deep into a pool of amber.
His fingertips comb through the spray of bristly seed heads, and he plucks one - intricate with its latticed husk and spiky guard hairs - and rubs it briskly between farm-hardened hands, blowing at the chaff until only the dry, ripe kernels remain.
About a mile down the road is a yellow, metal-sided shop. It's the sort of building common to farms and, like many of its kind, was built by the farmer himself.
In the corner of Goldmark's shop, however, is a small molecular biology lab - the place where he invented "George," the variety of soft white winter wheat that now surges about his waist and foams away to the smoky horizon.
"First there was one, then there were many. What an amazing process," he says, popping the kernels into his mouth. "I started out selecting one head. Now they are all over the state. It's quite a humbling thing."
Goldmark had several goals in mind when he set out to create "George," which is named after his late first wife, Georgia. The wheat should be high-yield, and it should have the stalk strength to hold up a loaded head. It should be winter hardy for those highland winters where there is no snow and temperatures dip to minus 20. It should be resistant to snow mold for those other highland winters where snow comes thick and - in the case of last winter - stays on the ground for 140 days.
Instead of looking through seed catalogues to find such a plant, Goldmark decided he'd make it himself.
It could be he's going to have to find an equally inventive formula to win the Congressional seat, but he seems to enjoy the challenge.
Comments? Send them to the Inlander
Publication Date: 8/9/06
This story is reprinted with permission.
A Hardy Strain
Up in the highlands east of the Okanogan Valley, Goldmark crunches down a gravel road toward a field of ripened wheat. This is the main road in his neighborhood, miles of gravel bending up and over rises and around corners, the kind of road you can stand in all day and never worry about getting run over.
Sun sinking through a sky yellow with smoke from forest fires, Goldmark wades into the wheat like a swimmer sloshing waist-deep into a pool of amber.
His fingertips comb through the spray of bristly seed heads, and he plucks one - intricate with its latticed husk and spiky guard hairs - and rubs it briskly between farm-hardened hands, blowing at the chaff until only the dry, ripe kernels remain.
In the corner of Goldmark's shop, however, is a small molecular biology lab - the place where he invented "George," the variety of soft white winter wheat that now surges about his waist and foams away to the smoky horizon.
"First there was one, then there were many. What an amazing process," he says, popping the kernels into his mouth. "I started out selecting one head. Now they are all over the state. It's quite a humbling thing."
Goldmark had several goals in mind when he set out to create "George," which is named after his late first wife, Georgia. The wheat should be high-yield, and it should have the stalk strength to hold up a loaded head. It should be winter hardy for those highland winters where there is no snow and temperatures dip to minus 20. It should be resistant to snow mold for those other highland winters where snow comes thick and - in the case of last winter - stays on the ground for 140 days.
Instead of looking through seed catalogues to find such a plant, Goldmark decided he'd make it himself.
It could be he's going to have to find an equally inventive formula to win the Congressional seat, but he seems to enjoy the challenge.
Comments? Send them to the Inlander
Publication Date: 8/9/06
This story is reprinted with permission.
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