2. Ghumaisā and Al Gamus were mentioned as names for the constellation Canis Minor in the chapter Orion Revisited:

 ... We also find Al Jummaizā, their Sycamine, although some say that this should be Al Ghumaisā, the Dim, Watery-eyed, or Weeping One; either from the fact that her light was dimmer than that of her sister Al Shi'rā [Sirius], or from the fable connected with Suhail and his marriage to Al Jauzah and subsequent flight, followed by Al Shi'rā below the Milky Way, where she remained, the other sister, Al Ghumaisā, being left in tears in her accustomed position, or it may be from a recollection of the Euphratean title for Procyon, - the Water-dog.

Bayer wrote the word Algomeiza; Riccioli, Algomisa and Algomiza; and others, Algomeysa, Algomyso, Alchamize, etc.

Thus the Two Dog stars were the Arabs' Al Ahawāt al Suhail, the Sisters of Canopus. Still another derivation of the name is from Al Ghamūs, the Puppy; but this probably was a later idea from the Romans ...

To which we can add (from Wikipedia):

"The Sycamine tree is mentioned only in Luke 17:6. [He replied, 'If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, Be uprooted and planted in the sea, and it will obey you.']

It is rendered by Luther 'mulberry tree', which is most probably the correct rendering. It is found in two species, the black mulberry (Morus nigra) and the white mulberry (Morus alba), which are common in Palestine. It is in the same family as the fig-tree. Some contend, however, that this name denotes the sycamore fig of Luke 19:4." [So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.]

"An etiological Babylonian story that was later incorporated into Greek and Roman mythology attributes the reddish purple color of the white mulberry (Morus alba) fruits to the tragic deaths of the lovers Pyramus and Thisbe."

"In the Ovidian version, Pyramus and Thisbe is the story of two lovers in the city of Babylon who occupy connected houses/walls, forbidden by their parents to be wed, because of their parents' rivalry.

Through a crack in one of the walls, they whisper their love for each other. They arrange to meet near at Ninus' tomb under a mulberry tree and state their feelings for each other. Thisbe arrives first, but upon seeing a lioness with a mouth bloody from a recent kill, she flees, leaving behind her veil. The lioness drinks from a nearby fountain, then by chance mutilates the veil Thisbe had left behind.

When Pyramus arrives, he is horrified at the sight of Thisbe's veil, assuming that a fierce beast had killed her. Pyramus kills himself, falling on his sword in proper Roman fashion, and in turn splashing blood on the white mulberry leaves. Pyramus' blood stains the white mulberry fruits, turning them dark. Thisbe returns, eager to tell Pyramus what had happened to her, but she finds Pyramus' dead body under the shade of the mulberry tree. Thisbe, after a brief period of mourning, stabs herself with the same sword. In the end, the gods listen to Thisbe's lament, and forever change the colour of the mulberry fruits into the stained colour to honour the forbidden love."

(http://www.cirrusimage.com/tree_white_mulberry.htm)

Wilkinson (in his Hieroglyphernas Värld) informs us that each morning Sun was regarded to rise between a pair of sycomore trees named 'Two Knives' "... presumably because ... they symbolized the victory every morning in Sun's fight agains the powers of darkness."

"The Ancient Egyptians cultivated this species 'almost exclusively', according to Zohary and Hopf. Remains of F. sycomorus begin to appear in predynastic levels and in quantity from the start of the third millennium BCE. It was the ancient Egyptian Tree of Life.

Zohary and Hopf note that 'the fruit and the timber, and sometimes even the twigs, are richly represented in the tombs of the Egyptian Early, Middle and Late Kingdoms. In numerous cases the parched sycons bear characteristic gashing marks indicating that this art, which induces ripening, was practice in Egypt in ancient times.'

Although this species of fig requires the presence of the symbiotic wasp Ceratosolen arabicus to reproduce sexually, and this insect is extinct in Egypt, Zohay and Hopf have no doubt that Egypt was 'the principal area of sycamore fig development'. Some of the caskets of mummies in Egypt are made from the wood of this tree. In tropical areas where the wasp is common, complex mini-ecosystems involving the wasp, nematodes, other parasitic wasps, and various larger predators revolve around the life cycle of the fig. The trees' random production of fruit in such environments assures its constant attendance by the insects and animals which form this ecosystem." (Wikipedia)

The Tree of Life is a whole ecosystem, we can conclude when we remember the birds and the bees in the ceiba episode (described in The World Below):

... a nearby tree heavy with white blossoms and surrounded by a raucous sphere of birds and bees. She climbed out of the van with her binoculars around her neck, and walked over to take advantage of the unexpected opportunity the morning had provided. Our local guide, Francisco Florián, who knew the forest and its creatures in an unusually intimate way, joined her, explaining that the birds came to the tree only early in the morning. The sounds and the odd sight finally drew my attention and I too disembarked from the van and edged closer to the buzzing center of the action.

I stared at the screaming birds as they fought for positions among the flowers and the hovering drone of thousands of bees. How beautiful, I thought, and then my gaze happened to settle on the trunk of the tree. It had thorns and it bulged just above the ground. It was a young ceiba tree.

I already knew that the ceiba tree was the model for the sacred World Tree of the Maya, but I had never seen one in flower when I knew what I was looking at. I was really excited because normally you can't see the blossoms even if you're there when the tree is in blossom. The fully mature trees are hundreds of feet high, and the blossoms are very small. 'It's a ceiba', I chirped and began looking for a branch low enough to see one of the blossoms up close. Joyce Livingstone, a retired teacher, did the logical thing. She bent over, picked up a fallen branch, and held it out for me to see. I was too excited and full of myself to listen. She tapped my arm more insistently and still I didn't hear her. Finally, in frustration, she grabbed my wrist and raised her voice. 'Will you look at these?' she said, waving the branch, and finally I did.

What I saw stunned me, for in her hand lay a perfect replica of the earflares worn by the Classic Maya kings. Suddenly I understood the full symbolism of so many of the things I had been studying for years. The kings dressed themselves as the Wakah-Chan tree, although at the time I didn't know it was also the Milky Way.

The tzuk [partition] head on the trunk of the tree covered their loins. The branches with their white flowers bent down along their thighs, the double-headed ecliptic snake rested in their arms, and the great bird Itzam-Yeh stood on their head. I already knew as I stood under the young tree in Tikal that the kings were the human embodiment of the ceiba as the central axis of the world. As I stood there gazing at the flowers in Joyce's hand, I also learned that the kings embodied the ceiba at the moment it flowers to yield the sak-nik-nal, the 'white flowers', that are the souls of human beings. As the trees flowers to reproduce itself, so the kings flowered to reproduce the world ...