The whole folklore of tarragon turns on the dragon in its name. By the doctrine of signatures, the old idea that a plant's form reveals its use, its coiled, snake-like roots marked it as a remedy against snakes and other venomous bites, a folk reputation recorded here as history and not as medical claim. It was accordingly counted a protective herb, carried or grown to guard against serpents and, by extension, against harm and the malice of enemies. A quiet, sweet-tasting culinary herb, tarragon carries a symbolism entirely out of scale with its gentle flavour, drawn wholly from the small dragon it was named for.
Its membership in the wormwood genus, Artemisia, links tarragon distantly to mugwort and true wormwood, plants with their own long history of protective and visionary use across Europe and Asia, though tarragon itself, mild and edible, was valued in the kitchen rather than for any of the stronger effects its bitter relatives carried. The genus name honours Artemis, goddess of the hunt and of wild places, an apt patron for a family of plants gathered wild from hedgerow and steppe long before any of them were brought into the garden, tarragon among the mildest and most thoroughly domesticated of a wilder botanical family.