Thinking of money as decorative rather than remunerative, I bought a few old coins at a flea market for 25 cents apiece, knowing that months earlier I had found a discarded roof tile in the rough shape of a long, narrow face, and the hand-wrought metal tines of a pitchfork. The two pieces made me think of a face with spiky hair or a headdress. Flea market pool balls became eyes, a discarded teakettle handle found on the sidewalk became the nose, and two electric burners from a hotplate became the ears. The cartoon-like mouth is a modified piece of vine that reminded me of smiling lips. The coins, a few beads, pieces of jewelry and sea glass, painted sheet-metal leaves, pottery shards and shells, and my grandfather’s Kiwanis button became the earrings and decoration for the headdress, attached with thin wire that wraps vine-like around the burners and tines.