The butterfly irises in our front yard have faces, only I didn’t notice them until Anne, my full time editor, pointed them out to me. How did I miss that feature, given my proclivity for seeing faces on boulders? Okay, given Brexit and ongoing global terrorism, this factoid has little relevance, save for how it affects my personal development as an aging student of wisdom. I could have kept this personal oversight a secret, but I chose to go public. Is anyone laughing yet? Pretty soon I’ll start sounding like someone running for president. Hey, my hair is better. I digress. After all the iris is only a flower, but for that face now embedded in my mind.