It’s June, the month of roses. This rose bush traveled many miles to my garden. The original owner nicknamed it “Attack Rose”. Every time her mother walked near the bush she would get caught in the thorns. I received the bushes’ off-spring—duly christened “Son of Attack Rose”—and he’s living up to his reputation. “Feed me Seymour.”
The poor frog can’t move fast enough. It’s not easy being ornamental.