Recently Barbara of Folkways Notebook [see side bar] showed some scarecrows which reminded me of this lady who might possibly have been called a scarecrow until she was disrobed about a month ago. For two years I've been passing her standing rather enigmatically in an untended lawn of a house that seemed occupied. She wore a skirt and blouse and a very long strand of plastic beads. Naturally the weathering she endured left her clothing in sad disarray and more and more tattered as seasons passed. But now, while her hair-do stands up to wind and rain far better than mine does, she reveals her severely anorexic body and I long to see her clothed again. I drive past her several times a week and keep an eye on her. I"m sure the house behind her is occupied but the occupants are not into gardening as nearly all of their neighbors are.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!