The Bad Mother

Here at 29 Pine, everything is popping in the perennial border.  Yes they are precious; yes, I could wax poetic, but some days I want to say, "Who are all of you, anyway?"

So let's raise our glasses to Dorothy Parker who penned those immortal words, "Every year, back comes Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up with plants."