Catnip

This unseasonably warm weather has caused my plants to grow wild. My yard (which my neighbor glares at daily--Hey, I cut my grass once a week. That is enough for anybody. So myofb, jackass.), my dandelions, and the wild strawberries in my front yard have all gone crazy. All my flowering bushes have flowered already, too. And my catnip is rampant.

Listen, I planted catnip from seed about 7 years ago. I thought, "Wouldn't it be nice to have some fresh catnip for my furry friends?" And it really seemed like a good idea. I planted one small planter, thinking I would dry it at the end of the summer and maybe save some of the seeds to replant the next spring. Ha!

Here's what I now know about catnip:

1. Catnip, like spearmint (which it is apparently related to) will take over the place. I started with one small container. Then catnip declared Manifest Destiny and spread itself into all the other containers. And the garden proper. And the actual yard. And the cracks in my patio, if I don't stay right on top of that. I should have realized this would happen, since I had a previous, similar experience with spearmint. I'm thinking this may be the South's answer to Kudzu. Just plant some catnip and it will shank kudzu in the ass. Catnip will be like, "The South is ours now, kudzu. Beat it!"

2. Racoons love catnip as much (or more) than cats do. I'm gonna let you picture drunken racoons in your own imagination for a second. Got that image? Yeah. I didn't know it affected them the same way. Apparently it does. Or else the suburban racoons in my neighborhood just like to make weird chittery noises and tear planters up for no reason.

3. I don't need to collect the seeds to replant. It comes back by itself. I can save some for you, if you like.

4. Catnip, when dried and crumbled, looks a lot like Oregano. Or Basil. Or Parsley. Or pot. I make sure to label the containers very well, just in case my mother-in-law were to open the top kitchen cabinet for some reason.