Sadly, into each life some rain must fall. I don't mind rain of the watery kind (that would be silly). I'm talking about my metaphorical rain, my nemesis...
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| The Evil Weed from Wikipedia |
Poison ivy.
Poison ivy is my enemy. It is the Soviet Union to my United States, the rain on my parade, the PC to my Mac. It is the only adversary in my life with which there is no negotiation, no compromise, for which the "last resort" is the ONLY resort. There is no detente, no shelter, no agreement to disagree. Poison ivy laughs in the face of diplomacy; it creeps over the boundaries I try to establish with it. I tell it that I only want a little free space and it laughs and sends out insidious little hairy tendrils to torment me.
My husband says that I can get poison ivy just by walking past someone who is thinking about the horrible case of poison ivy they had two years ago last July. He is not exaggerating: if anything he is sometimes guilty of understatement. When I get poison ivy, I don't just get it on my hands: I get it on my feet, even though I am wearing jeans, hiking boots and thick socks; I get it on my stomach (my STOMACH!) even though I am wearing two layers of clothing; I get it all the way up my arms even though I am wearing a long-sleeved shirt and gloves; I get it on my thighs...on my THIGHS???
My medicine cabinet has a whole department of poison ivy remedies. Most of them were a waste of money. The homeopathics are largely a better bet than the pharmaceuticals, but at least once a year I find myself giving in and calling the doctor to howl for steroids. It's usually this time of year, and usually I get the incredulous nurse asking: "Are you sure it's poison ivy??"
Yes, dammit. I was in a ditch in an area where poison ivy grows in the summer. The roots are there. Dead leaves are there. They wait for me.
I really think that all I need do is glance at those ominously shiny leaves and the itching starts. When I've mentioned this to someone, I've had responses like, "Oh, I don't get poison ivy!"
I hate them.
Each year, as I set up my campsite, I entertain the irrational hope that maybe this year I will finally have gotten enough poison ivy that I have become immune to it. Every year, I am sadly disappointed: even though I armor myself against the Evil Weed, I end up like I am now--red and itchy.
Inevitably there is a certain amount of astonishment on the part of my friends when, in mid-March, I contract my first case of the year. I can't tell you how many times I have explained that poison ivy doesn't just go away in the winter time, and that the leaves aren't the only part of the plant exuding urushiol, the liquid which causes the rash. In fact, the leaves are only the tip of the itchy iceberg.
KNOW THY ENEMY
I would like to have included more photographs but I didn't want to post things without permission. Next time I go out to the campsite maybe I can get some identifying shots to add to this blog.
For me, camping is like the movie "Zombieland": like the main character, I have developed a few simple rules that help keep me from getting walloped with more than one really catastrophic case of poison ivy a year.
RULE 1: AVOID THE THREE SHINY GREEN LEAVES UNLESS YOU ARE SPRAYING THEM WITH POISON IVY KILLER. This most obvious rule is best remembered with the adages, "Leaves of three, let it be", and "One, two, three? Don't touch me."
COROLLARY TO RULE 1: THE LEAVES AREN'T ALWAYS SHINY, AND THEY AREN'T ALWAYS GREEN. Leaves in the spring can be red: "Red leaflets in the spring, it's a dangerous thing" (I had never heard this one, but I'm posting it in the hope that someone can benefit). Once fully leafed the leaves are shiny green. Then summer comes, with drought and dust, and the pretty shiny green leaves become dull, blending into the rest of the forest foliage. This is just one of the ways that my leafy nemesis lies in wait for me.
RULE 2: TREAT EVERY PART--AND I MEAN EVERY PART--OF THE PLANT LIKE IT'S RADIOACTIVE. You're pulling up shoots? Great. Just don't let those roots touch your skin or you will end up with the screaming itchies.
COROLLARY TO RULE 2: KNOW WHAT EVERY PART OF THE PLANT LOOKS LIKE--AT ANY TIME OF YEAR. Poison ivy is universally evil. You cannot stand before the plant and sigh, "I know there's good in there somewhere". There isn't. Since we have already discussed leaves, let's talk about the other parts of the Evil Weed:
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| from Wikipedia |
The vines don't change appearance appreciably during the season. They may have a few shoots at their bases, but generally they sit in place, passive/aggressively reminding you that they are RIGHT THERE.
2. SHOOTS. One year I set up my campsite in a new location. A month later, I returned to find a zillion little grey shoots coming up around my camp kitchen. In March the shoots are about 6" tall and have small red buds; if you pull them up, you will see that the roots run underground from shoot to shoot. They're connected in a well-established network that is designed to thwart your efforts to eradicate the plant from your campsite. It's March, and already you're fighting an uphill battle.
3. BERRIES. Recently my husband asked me if there was anything good about poison ivy, and the truth is that birds do in fact eat the berries. WE, on the other hand, should NOT eat the berries.
4. THE "AT ANY TIME OF YEAR" PART: here's where it gets dicey. By now, I hope you're educated enough to realize that this stuff won't just go away after the first frost. So if you think you are safe leaning on those roots in January you are wrong. And soon you will be itchy.
Likewise, the leaves don't lose their efficacy with the change of seasons. Use extra caution when clearing your campsite of deadfall in the spring. Oh, and watch out for your firewood: if it had evil leaves resting on it, and you burn it, you will (as we found out last spring) experience the joy of what happens when you burn poison ivy (in my case, a trip to the emergency room because my left eye was swollen shut).
That's all I have to say on the subject. I hope that you take what I have said to heart, that you will take it with you when next you venture into the woods; that you pay better attention to the vegetation around you...
And then, after all that, laugh at yourself when you get poison ivy anyway.
