Giant Hogweed (Image from New York State Department of Transportation's Dangerous Roadside Plants page)

From the recent news reports, you’d think that New Yorkers had better fly south to escape the onslaught of the diabolical giant hogweed. Even its name evokes a sort of dread, and we are reminded of the stories of “killer bees” from the 1990s.

The giant hogweed plant (know scientifically as Heracleum mantegazzianum) is native to the Caucasus, a mountainous region that separates Europe from Asia. Like so many invasive plants, this species was originally imported to North America as a garden ornamental. It’s easy to see why. The plant is an attractive, gigantic herb, reaching up to ten feet tall in just a few months, topped by huge, umbrella-like spreads with hundreds of tiny white flowers. As a consequence, each plant can make hundreds or even thousands of seeds. Inevitably, this exotic species started to jump garden fences. In our region, the plant was first introduced to Rochester, N.Y. sometime before 1920. Since then, it has been steadily colonizing New York State (see the DEC map here) and it is now approaching New York City.

Why all the fuss? Well, it turns out that giant hogweed produces a sap containing some nasty chemicals called “furanocoumarins”. These compounds easily pass into our skin cells and bind to the DNA inside. Once inside the skin, one additional ingredient is needed to activate the toxin: sunlight. Exposed to the sun, these chemicals kill the affected cells, resulting in a reaction called phytophotodermatitis. This is a nasty, itchy rash that causes discoloration of the skin (from red to dark purple) that can last for months or even years. In severe cases, it can progress, turning into large blisters that mimic second-degree burns. If the plant’s sap reaches the sensitive tissue of your eyes, this blistering could result in scarring and blindness. Yet, as bad as this rash can be, furanocoumarins have been used medicinally as a remedy for psoriasis (where it prevents cell proliferation) and vitiligo (where it darkens depigmented skin).

Most victims of giant hogweed are affected while working in weedy patches, where they are exposed directly to the sap while removing plants by hand or cutting them down using a weed-whacker or lawn mower. The good news: giant hogweed is easy to see (it’s ten feet tall, after all), and you must be exposed to both the sap and sunlight. As a result, there are two ways to prevent this nasty rash: avoid exposure to the plant, especially its sap by wearing long pants, long-sleeved shirts, and protective eyewear in areas where giant hogweed grows (unlike the NYS DOT workers above), and avoid exposure of your skin to the sun for the next few days if you do accidentally touch it.

As it turns out, giant hogweed is not the only plant that can cause phytophotodermatitis. Many of its relatives in the plant family Umbelliferae also produce furanocoumarins, including carrots, parsnips, fennel, and celery, but the level of toxins in these species are typically lower. The same family includes other toxic plants, such as poison hemlock, as well as many useful herbs and spices like dill, parsley, cilantro/coriander, and caraway. The same class of compound are produced in completely unrelated plants, too, such as the wild relatives of tomatoes and strawberries, and in the rinds of lemons and limes. You may have heard of the dangers of making lemonade in the sunshine!

Finally, before you sell the house in New York and move to Florida, remember that we have already learned to deal with other nasty plants that cause terrible skin rashes and even blindness, including poison ivy and stinging nettles. Even though these native plants are harder to recognize, we have learned to deal with them. And one last reminder before you sell you house and head for Florida: We New Yorkers may have to deal with snow and giant hogweed, but at least we don’t have alligators, fire ants, and killer bees!

This peony is named 'Kevin'. Not that far off from a moss named 'Mark'.

I have been editing a lot of articles for nybg.org recently that involve long lists of the names of the many hybrids and cultivars we keep on Garden grounds. Anyone who has ever edited a long list in HTML can tell you that it is one of those tasks where it really is okay to let the mind wander a little. It has given me a lot of time to daydream about what kind of plant I would like to have named after me, if, you know, someday I just happen to meet the right hybridizer …. And I know I’m not alone in thinking about this, because when I posed the question yesterday on Twitter, “What would you most like to have named after you? A rose? A daylily? A hosta? Tell us!” the responses came fast and furious.

NYC_Living would “love to have a Tree named after me…a very large strong tall with deep green leaves and a long life!”

jmarkowski0 wants “an ornamental grass that thrives in clay and laughs at the nearby deer” named after him. (If you can breed that, we’ll help you lobby for the name!)

thinkingstomach would do with “a fruit tree, some kind of crazy-good nectarine.”

electrobloom wants “a moss! mark the moss has got a nice ring to it!” (It does, actually.)

graceyhearts is a girl who knows what she wants, and it’s “a white lily, like this one.”

garrickdetroit stays true to his urbanist roots and hopes that “any of the cityfied volunteer trees that sprout on (or in) poorly maintained buildings!” could be named for him.

ashleywillhite is hoping for the ‘Ashley Willhite’ hyacinth so that she can be planted in “a garden full of tulips of every color imaginable!” (Sounds divine!)

michele_owens goes subterranean with her wish to give her name to a “New parsnip variety, for sure.”

BloominChick shows her wild side in dreaming of “Something hardy, strong & beautiful. A tiger/wild Lily? (Those striking orange ones).”

There were also votes for a hosta, an orchid, a waterlily, and a butterfly (not technically a plant, but since so many plants can’t live without flowers, we’ll allow it).

And finally agardendiary, RedneckRosarian, AvasFlowers, ambianceflorals, and quite honestly, your blog editor, would all like to have a rose named after us. Rosa rafalko has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

So now it’s your turn, blog friends. Tell us: If you could have any new plant cultivar or hybrid named after you, what would it be?