Field Notes—

A Hardscrabble Weed With A Sunny Disposition

By Curtiss Clark

Flanking the railroad bridge on Church Hill Road to the east and west, in the gravelly ground forsaken by all but the most opportunistic weeds, is a bumper crop of common mullein. The luminous yellow, flowering spikes of this weed rise taller than basketball players across the open lot and up the embankment to the tracks of the Housatonic Line, making the scene look sun drenched even on rainy days. The feet of these leggy interlopers are swathed in gray-green flannel socks, which on closer inspection are thick, soft, fuzzy leaves.

Because common mullein (Verbascum thapsus) is such an attractive weed, it isn’t surprising that it has been cultivated, hybridized, and distributed around the world for centuries from its native ground in Turkey and the western steppes of Asia. It has been a favorite in the borders of gardeners since the Middle Ages, and today there are 360 species of verbascum available in a full spectrum of colors. Yet to me they are most beautiful as humble weeds when they arrange themselves in airy yellow curtains across an otherwise dreary landscape.

The plant has almost as many aliases as blossoms on an August afternoon. Many of its folk names are variations on a theme — “the candlewick plant,” “hag’s taper,” and “hedge taper” — because the leaves ignite so easily. They were often used as make-do wicks in lamps. The stems, when soaked in tallow, made serviceable torches for angry mobs and other less impassioned persons just looking for something to light their way in the dark. And for its distinctive leaves, mullein has also been dubbed “grandmother’s flannel.”

Herbalists also claim that the plant gives soft, grandmotherly comfort to people suffering from colds, coughs, and sore throats when infused in tea; when macerated in olive oil, it can soothe an earache. The leaves and flowers of the plant are “generally recognized as safe” by the Food and Drug Administration, but mullein seeds contain the toxin rotenone, which is used in insecticides. As with any plant growing in the wild, it is not a good idea to prepare any food or beverage with it unless you know what you’re doing.

Perhaps the most impressive thing about mullein (pronounced MUL-in) is its ability to do so much with so little. It takes root in arid, merciless soil that other hardscrabble weeds cannot abide. It doesn’t compete well in a crowd, so over time it has evolved to find refuge in leftover and forgotten places, getting by with almost nothing in the way of nourishment. While it is rooted in this harsh reality, it somehow rockets to heights that dwarf other weeds, stretching to six or eight feet, apparently by necessity.

Researchers conducting two separate studies of common mullein and other shorter plants have found that pollinators prefer taller plants, giving mullein an evolutionary incentive to reach for the sky.

The impromptu field of mullein on Church Hill Road should continue to bloom into September, providing passing motorists with a sunny commute up and down the hill in every kind of weather. No one planted it. No one tends it. No one will harvest it. Yet in its wildness, it gives the town a cultivated air.