This is one of those "is the old lady losing her marbles?" plays, in which the doddering, aching, creaking, 79-year-old heroine drifts from witty perceptiveness to the borders of senility and back at the snap of the playwright's whim, all the while wondering "who is going to take care of my tree?"
SOURCE: Huffington Post at 10:05PM on April 21, 2014