Not so long ago, I was driving to Westport in the eastern Adirondacks, running late and trying to catch a southbound train when, for reasons I won’t go into, I pulled over, vaulted the guardrail, and darted into brushy woods. There, a moment later, I looked down at my feet and made a notable botanical discovery. I was standing in poison ivy!
Like any sensible man or woman of the woods, I was wearing trousers, shoes, and socks. If I’d been in shorts, I might have been itching and scratching by the time I reached Poughkeepsie.
Poison ivy is a handsome native plant, but it comes to us with an unpleasant reputation. The reputation gives rise to the plant’s genus name, Toxicodendron, which means “poison tree.” An oil produced by…
