One of the definitions of "fetish" by The Free Online Dictionary is an "object of unreasonably excessive attention or reverence." If that's the case, then I must admit that along with my collection of cement rabbits in my garden, I also have a certain small fetish for artificial roosters in my garden. Oh dear, Sigmund Freud, what exactly might that say about my psyche?
The rooster at the right watches over my lavenders right outside the back door. This is a straight western exposure, lots of sun and wind and cold during the winter. Made of cast iron, I was pretty sure when I purchased it from the garden store that it would withstand the prevailing Kansas winds in this exposed site, and so far, it has "withstood" the worst that the prairie can throw at it.
The second rooster, at the left, is a nice addition to my front landscaping, even placed as it is overshadowed in the summer by the bright red bee's balm (Monarda didyma 'Jacob Cline') surrounding it. It is also a perfect example of why "permanent" garden ornaments shouldn't be formed from terra cotta. It slowly decays a little bit each year, but at the same time, I so love the patina and the color of the thing that I can't bare to provide it any shellac or coating. I assume that someday, after another long winter or two, it will become just another an unrecognizable crumbling clay pillar, but till then it stays vigilant for me to scratch out any insects that try to invade the house from the front.
There's just no accounting for garden taste now, is there? Wait till I finally write about my rabbits!