The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

Recently I read a piece on Garden Rant called Keep Your Garden out of My Face & it got me to thinking about all of the faces I have in my garden. Here are a few.  Warning!  Abandon all hope of finding anything tasteful all you who read on from here!

 

 

St. Francis has no idea which came first the chicken or the egg.  Might be interesting to replace the lightbulb with the head of Col. Sanders & replace the egg in his left hand with a small ax. 

 

 

 Someone needs a haircut!

Most of these faces are hidden and can only be seen if one seeks them out.  Many can only be seen in the winter.

 

Some are serene..



Some not so much.



Here's where St. Francis left his head.

A friend gave me this piece of broken statuary.  I added the happy face.

Had to pull a lot of vegitation back to even see this fellow who is one of those winter only guys.   Fear not, it's ceramic.

Looking a little concerned.  You'd be too if a fern were growing out of your head.  Just guessing. 

Beethoven looking quite composed.

 

 It's nice to feel that one is being watched in the garden.

 

Believe it or not, there are many more.  It's not just faces, either.  Many other body parts appear.

 

I like to think that this is what happens to garden vandals - The plants exact revenge by consuming them.  

 Wouldn't you give your hand to a friend?

 

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

 

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

 

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

 

e.e.cummings

 

    If you're a fan of choral music, there's a beautiful setting by Z. Randall Stroope, one of my favorite living composers, of this poem here.

From Head to toe, just about every body part makes an appearance. 

 

 

 

The End.