If this is the fourth time you've tried to read this column, having being drawn away in search of tissue to blow your nose or to wipe your running eyes, then persevere ... this topic will be of interest to you. It's ragweed season!
You might as well know what you're suffering from, which is classic seasonal allergic rhinitis, also known as hay fever. "But," you may well mumble from behind that recent wad of tissue, "isn't hay fever a spring condition? Like, when the grass is spreading its pollen?"
Well, yes, it is the same, only different ... instead of grass pollen, your nose has now sucked in some ragweed pollen. Both are spread by the wind. Sucks to be you, I guess.
Ragweed, which is found on every patch of disturbed soil and along every roadside, has begun its reproduction process. By throwing oodles of pollen into the wind (even a light breeze will do) there is a good chance that some of those pollen grains will eventually settle on a lovely female flower who is out there, waiting. Unless your nose interferes and thwarts the romantic journey of that said male pollen grain.
But don't feel bad for running interference, as the plan that ragweed adheres to is to spread pollen heavily, and often. A good sized plant can have 5,000 seed pods, and releases about 1.25 million pollen grains a day, some of which will travel up to 125 miles away from home.
I didn't make those numbers up, I read them on the internet. How would you like a summer job like that... tracking a pollen grain as it blows in the wind to places far away and unknown? But I digress.
There are at least two types of ragweed in our area, common and giant. Both emit copious amounts of pollen, in case you were wondering if one was nicer than the other.
Common ragweed is everywhere, on roadsides, in back yards, around the derelict barbecue, anywhere the sun shines down and shade is non-existent.
Giant ragweed is a newcomer to our area, drifting in from the deep south of Ontario or arriving in bags of cheap bird seed, again from the southern ranges of our province.
If common ragweed can grow over knee-high, how big can giant ragweed get? Hold on to your noses — well over two metres high! No problem there in finding a helpful breeze to carry the pollen away. But this variety is not widespread here, yet. I've seen it around a couple of birdfeeders, no doubt imported by well-minded but unsuspecting bird feeder operators.
This larger cousin actually has an interesting past, as it was once used as a cultivated crop. Many thousands of years ago, when the first human emigrants were invading the area and setting up camp, ragweed oil was a precious commodity.
Surviving a harsh winter required stocking up on herbs in the appropriate season, and late summer was for gathering and boiling ragweed seeds. Once crushed and boiled, the resultant oil that floated on top was kept for a winter-time protein boost.
Ragweed was also an important part of a Indigenous person's first aid kit, as the leaves assist blood clotting and reduce swelling. See? Not all bad.
Wildlife also love this particular plant, the leaves eaten by rabbits, grasshoppers and voles. The late fall seeds are enjoyed by migrating finches and residential mourning doves. Again, the high concentrations of fat and protein make this a desirable autumn food source.
One other aspect of ragweed that I found interesting, is that it is apparently very good at extracting lead from contaminated soil. (Can't say that I'd want to sip any oil extracted from these particular plants!)
A look inside your wildflower field guide will reveal that the Genus name of ragweed is 'Ambrosia'. A rough translation of this Greek word is that it means 'food of the Gods'. So there you go, and I'm surprised that a whole cottage industry has not sprung up to gather, refine and sell ragweed oil. Opportunity knocks, anyone?
For those of you whose body has decided that ragweed pollen is an invading enemy and pushes back by trying to expunge it from most any facial orifice, well sorry. Just so you know, as you pass the tissue box around, ragweed pollen disappears around mid-September.