For the first time in three years, something stopped me thinking about my research. The other week, I woke up with a severe headache and numbness on the right side of my face. These symptoms sent me to the emergency room, and then to a team of neurologists, whose care I have been under. After a slew of tests, including a clean MRI scan, there was no precise diagnosis of my ailment. I was sent home with pain medication and a recommendation for a facial X-ray, a bone scan and a spinal tap. In other words, the doctors are now shooting in the dark, with little idea as to the source of my illness.

On reflection, my thoughts returned to my own research. Although biologists and medical doctors have made great strides in resolving some of life's mysteries, there is so much more we do not yet know. Lying in the hospital bed sipping cold chicken soup, I realized that I have less control over my research direction than I once believed. In truth, as I explore the mechanistic nuances of plant growth, I simply expose more of the unexplored, which often leads me to shoot in the dark to get to the next step.

My intuition as to where I should aim can only take me so far and, ultimately, like my doctors, I am often left scratching my head in wonder and amazement.