Golden hops vine

Have you ever heard the expression
"hopping mad?"
It came from the drunken rages of the "hoppers," who were itinerant laborers in the English hops fields. Hoppers were the lowest dregs of medieval society, scorned for their poverty and nasty hygiene, not to mention their scary dermatitis caused by exposure to abrasive vines and oils from the hops plants. No wonder they were mad!

We've had a golden hops vine on this arbor for years. I've tried to grow daintier plants here like clematis, but eventually gave up. The hops is the only vine that does well in this poor, parched spot. It dies to the ground in the winter, and has never turned invasive on me, like so many other vines. And when I did some Internet research for this post, I was amazed at the long history of hop cultivation, quackery and folklore.

The ancient Romans grew ornamental hops and ate the young shoots in salads, but I don't think they made much beer with hops, that being an Egyptian invention. The hops plant has long been revered and feared for its herbal and intoxicating abilities. In fact, hops is now used in modern aromatherapy as a treatment for depression. I read Abraham Lincoln had a little "hop pillow" to calm his nerves and gloom. I wouldn't call it intoxicating, but the scent of the flowers is strange and dreamy, so Abe may have been on to something. Scientists have found enough psychotropic compounds in hops to give it legitimate value for treating insomnia. I also learned it is sometimes used as a beer-substitute to wean alcoholics from actual beer. Since hops is strongly associated with beer, I suppose it could have a placebo effect in alcohol substitution. Although if this were true, then eating fresh grapes would ease a wine craving.

I don't think so...