Naif in the Forest by Darrell Berger

Wing Tips to Hiking Boots: Musings of a New, Full-Time Poconos Resident 

The field near the creek is alive with goldenrod, a sign of fall approaching. That was why the dark yellow writing tablets of my early education were called Goldenrod Tablets. 

I walked through the goldenrod without sneezing, convincing me that my severe pollen allergy had improved. A little research taught me that goldenrod is not the cause of allergies. Its pollen is too heavy and sticky to travel far, which is why many varieties of insects love it. 

The allergy culprit is goldenrod’s frequent companion, burdened with the unappealing name ragweed. One ragweed plant can produce a billion grains of pollen in one season. The pollen is so light it has been found hundreds of miles out to sea. There are several ways to control ragweed, none of which work. 

While ragweed is unwelcome almost everywhere, goldenrod gets a varied reception.  It is considered a weed in America, invasive in Germany and China. It is a garden plant in most of Europe, especially in more wildly arranged English gardens.

Goldenrod contains a small quantity of rubber. Edison and Ford spent considerable time and money attempting to use it to make rubber tires, which proved impractical. Ragweed is of the more elegantly named genus ambrosia. There is disagreement among botanists regarding its historic uses. It is a “lost grain,” a plant once cultivated and important to human consumption, but no more. 

Ragweed contains raw protein and fat. It grows above the snow, providing an important food source in winter. It has use as an antiseptic, emetic and emollient. Ancient peoples eventually replaced it with easier to grow and prepare grains like corn, soy and wheat. 

Goldenrod’s mother might have said, “Stop hanging around ragweed. It will ruin your reputation.” It isn’t ragweed’s fault that it fell from being a sustaining crop, with its only distinguishing characteristic making people sneeze. Goldenrod stood by ragweed and today many people blame it for its companion’s annoyances. Ragweed might say, “I once had class. I was cultivated. I was somebody, not a lost grain, which is what I am.”