My poor flower beds.
They don't stand a chance. The ones in the front of the house flourish and bloom regularly. The two little beds behind the house have become the meeting place of the laying hens. They scratch the rocks, wiggle their little fluffy bodies in the dirt, and eat the leaves off of each plant.
When I was going to the clothes lines line yesterday I saw this plastic cone sticking out of the ground. Brylee,2, said she was "planting ice cream cones". Yep, that's just what she did.