Picasso's "Weeping Woman" pretty well depicts the way I've felt for the past 24 hours except that my hands have been red instead of green. And well basted with hydrocortisone cream to boot.
It was sunny and hot on Friday but I was determined to clean up my little box garden. As I attacked the last of the boxes, I discovered that the rue -- a herb I planted for its literary links and its looks rather than its medicinal qualities -- needed pruning as it had gone from this modest little shrub seen here in the spring to a giant unwieldy mass that was shading out the cherry tomato planted in the tuteur.
I remembered vaguely that rue was said to act as an irritant to some people but I've handled it before without ill effect so I plunged ahead with my pruning shears (and without gloves,) cutting back the sprawling monster to allow the tomato some sun and breathing space and dragging out the severed branches to dispose of.
Early the next morning I awakened with my hand on fire with itching -- pretty much like poison ivy. Lots of red patches and a few blisters -- arrgh!
An internet search revealed what I hadn't known -- the combination of hot sunlight and the oils of the rue plant are what cause the dermatitis in some people.And now I know that I'm one of those people.
As I said before -- ARRGH!