Faces: Peasant Girl

Peasant Girl in The Mirror
Peasant Girl in The Mirror

Peasant Girl In The Mirror

Everything, almost everything, in my world has a face.  Even a cheese knife has a rabbit face.  I have collected many objects and paintings throughout my life…virtually all of them have faces.  I believe I told you the story about my daughter’s effort to replace a favorite lamp that my arch nemesis, Maxwell, broke.  When she called our friend, the design person at a local shop, she laid out the only requirement.  The lamp must have a face.  Jill out-did herself.  The lamp has three faces!  Momma monkey and two rowdy children.  One rambunctious adolescent hangs from the arm of the lamp.  I was delighted.

This lovely peasant girl has served me well for many years.  She holds a deep tray waiting to receive my jewelry.  If I throw in the occasional stray button or a penny from my pocket, she receives them too without complaint.  She stands on the counter between the basins in my bathroom exactly where she stood in the old house.  I honor her for the silent, patient service and the loyal manner in which she has served for so long without mention.

She is a reassuring face among the myriad faces who inhabit my world and make me smile.

Thank you, Peasant Girl.

25 Comments on “Faces: Peasant Girl

  1. I like faces too. Not that many faces around me in my home. A few, but not that many. But I do like faces, and am able to see so much in a face. When I meet with someone, if it is for the first time, or if it is after years of knowing one another, the face usually reveals to me as much or more than the conversation we have. And I learn a lot from the faces of animals too. I enjoyed this post very much. It helped me to know you still better, and it gave me a sense of your home. You have mentioned your arch nemesis, Maxwell before. If you had some sort of search instrument on your blog, I’d go looking for this character. Because he sounds interesting. But I suppose I will wait in patience to learn more about him. Thank you, George.


    • I just recently allowed WP to automatically list categories at the top of my blog. I don’t like it, but if it helps you to find Maxwell, I’ll tolerate it. Click on “Photos by George” and scroll down. You’ll see that rascal’s face with the post title. “I Swear I Had A Life”.

      I too love faces. Natural portraits fascinate me. Faces of the characters in my real life fascinate me too. I met the most beautiful old woman today in the line at Walgreen. I told her how sorry I was not to have my camera. Perhaps I will meet her again. Or perhaps I will seek her out in the hospital cancer treatment center. She was on her way there when we met in line. I feel compelled to find her again.


    • You may be right, Cara. They are dependable, aren’t they? I have collected them for most of my adult life. Apparently, they anchor me. Or, maybe I simply have a fanciful mind off on a daydream? We Mollusk People are “different”, you know. 😉


    • I never thought of her as a trooper, but that’s exactly what she has been…through all the steam baths and toothpaste splatters and other indignities. Yet, she’s been privy to bathroom gossip too. That has to be worth something! 😉


  2. You are so nice and creative lady, dear George. You give a character all these objects… You make them alive with yourself… They become someone, like “The Peasant Girl…” This is your creative world. I am sure, I wouldn’t get bored in your home… There are many life and stories in there… 🙂 Thank you so much, I enjoy keep reading and watching your amazing blog. With my love, nia


    • You give character and life to everything you photograph. The old buildings take on warmth and personality and history in your hands. The cats become our friends. The seagulls and the sea too. Even a dried rose is alive and fascinating in simple soap suds. You do what I love. Thank you for seeing my home and me in it with such gentle kindness.


    • Thank you, Nandini. I am playing with my new lens and having such a wonderful time! 🙂


  3. Well done, as always. 🙂
    To stand without judgement, To sleep without fear, Guard the Nervous Nellies, And all they hold dear.


    • Lordy, you’ve written a precise description…and in poetic terms too. I have to keep it. I wonder if others know who the Nervous Nellies are. Let’s never tell.


  4. I love your peasant girl, George. From your description of her placement, it seems that she might represent some stability in life, also…”exactly where she stood in the old house…” and a “reassuring face among the myriad faces….” I can’t help but wonder what else you’re saying in all of that…or not. I’m glad she’s there for you. 🙂


    • Scott, get that head of yours out of the psych book! I am glad you mentioned it, however. I describe these things in mock-heroic terms, but they really do please me. I don’t keep anything around me that I don’t enjoy looking at or touching or using. Everything should be beautiful, and it is in its own way. I have a strange concept of beauty. I find the most emotionally wrenching of the Käthe Kollwitz etchings beautiful, for example. Let me know when you figure that one out! 😉


      • Ok, George…I’ll try to get it out…but my psychologist wife keeps knocking me with it, so it’s hard to get away. Also, we’re only a year and a few months from having made a huge life transition, move to another state…and out of the house that was our home for 20 years…so we’re kind of dealing with what I mentioned as maybe you were going through…but ok. 😉

        I agree…everything around us should be beautiful. I will have to look at the Kollwitz etchings and attempt to figure it out. Sounds like a challenge. 🙂


        • Uprooting is painful. Especially for folks like us. My husband had more trouble with the New House than I did. He was a comfort creature. He furrowed his nest in every sofa we ever had. I told him once that when he died, I was going to buy two things: a very nice, clean sofa and a Macaw. I bought the new sofa before he died. It is beautiful leather. He hated it. It was cold and he couldn’t make a nest in the cushions. When God gets me for anything, I suspect it will be that.
          You are right in your analysis. I have finally made a home for myself here. I am comfortable now with my familiar paintings and etchings looking back at me when I walk through. The big life adjustment for me was giving up control of the business my husband and I built over thirty years. I have turned loose of that too. The kids keep my desk in the office, but I am no longer interested in going there. Life works out, Scott.


          • I’m glad you have made your home again…and beautiful with your lovely things around you. I know adjustment will come…I’m trying to smooth the spots where the tincture of time hasn’t kicked in yet…but yes, it will work out. Thank you. 🙂


      • Hello again George…I agree with you about the Kollwitz etchings…the most emotionally wrenching of them are indeed beautiful…her love and respect for the darkness of life and the most base levels of humanity are apparent in her work…they seem to inform it and make them what they are…and so they are beautiful. Thank you.


  5. Just a little note that is off the subject….but I have sent a message to niasunset to let her know that I
    will be watching for the little hat. I told her that I actually purchased a product sold as “squirrel underpants”.
    I will send them to her if she wants them….I will post a picture of these also!!



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