Best loved

Art thou the bird whom Man Woman loves best, The pious bird with the scarlet breast, Our little English  Irish Robin; The bird that comes about our doors When autumn winds are sobbing?
A bit of tampering with some William Wordsworth.*

A busy morning in the garden before the rain came, aided and abetted by my trusty helper. Royal ferns cut down, apart from the ones that had a wasp's nest in the middle; bamboo chopped, poles saved for next year; and a start made on clearing some of the parrot weed out of the pond.
*Not sure about the pious bit