The figure outside the post office

An original literary non-fiction-style account of walking through a village scarecrow display.

The first figure stood outside the post office in an enormous check shirt. Its sleeves ended in gardening gloves, both raised as if it had just been told something surprising. A straw hat leaned over a face made from a flour sack. The smile was wide enough to make the closed post office look briefly apologetic.

Further along, a scarecrow in evening dress sat on a bench beside the bus stop. Someone had crossed one trouser leg over the other and placed a folded newspaper on its knee. From a distance, it had the air of a person whose time was too valuable to spend waiting for a bus. Close up, one polished shoe was attached with green string.

I was following a printed route through the display. The map gave each figure a number and a short title. It did not mention the ordinary life continuing around them. A delivery driver moved two boxes past the enormous check shirt without returning its greeting. An elderly woman sat beside the evening dress and opened her shopping bag. The figure remained attentive while she searched for her purse.

At the final corner, rain began to fall. A man came out of a gate carrying a plastic sheet. He draped it over a scarecrow dressed as a lifeguard, leaving the painted rescue ring uncovered. The lifeguard now looked like someone who needed rescuing from a very small shower.

I folded the wet map. None of the figures had moved or spoken, yet I had spent the walk giving them moods, opinions and responsibilities. Behind the plastic, the lifeguard’s cheerful face continued to promise assistance it was never going to provide.

How does the writer present the scarecrows as a humorous part of village life?