The last week or so has been rather warm here in Da Bronx. I went to Home Depot with visions of Gerbera daisies and peonies dancing in my head. I settled for some peony roots and some basil seed instead, along with a rather large bag of soil and a couple of containers.
Today I decided to attack the azalea bushes. I don’t understand why, but I hate azaleas. They look pretty for a little while, but after that they’re just kind of there. There were about five of them in the yard. Don’t go thinking I have a large yard–I do not. It’s rather small. It’s about the same size as my living room. One of them was definitely quite old–the root system was amazing. Thank goodness I do not have any rhododenrons–hate those too!
I have no focus. Can you tell? I was bouncing all over the yard. One minute I was hacking away at the bush (I vanquish thee, Azalea Bush!), the next I was trying to pull up weeds, or I was raking furiously. When raking would not loose dead leaves, I went in with garden-gloved hands.
And now my hands reek of cat pee. Reek. Of. Cat. Pee. Six hours after the fact.
I have poured pine sol on. Bleach. Vinegar. Ajax. It’s all I can smell–cat pee!
But my garden looks ready to be plundered now. I didn’t think to take any photos, sorry.
Unfortunately I don’t think I’ll be able to eat tonight.
I couldn’t figure out where the odor might have come from and then I remembered my neighbor said that there were kittens hanging out in his yard behind the shed–and he commented on the smell. I didn’t notice anything at the time–I was digging, rooting, raking and destroying.
The vinegar has helped a little bit, but every few minutes or so ammonia wafts over. I may have to soak my hands in pine sol for five minutes later on.
I’m beginning to wonder whether I ought to plant honeysuckle after all. Cats like honeysuckle, by the way. I’m horribly allergic to cats but like to pet them, and wanted to be able to attract some kitties. My grandma used to have a honeysuckle in the front yard by the door. There were always two or three cats hanging out there, and I never understood why until my uncle gave me a branch cutting. Leopold didn’t quite go nuts over it like he did with catnip, but he was hugging the branch and rubbing his face all over it!
But if it means they’re going to pee in my yard I may just do without the honeysuckle. Why should I reward them for turning my yard into a litter box?