Using only a carpenter’s graphite pencil line and a finger to smudge it, one evening I discovered a little fox face peering out of a mudded, sanded seam in the sheetrock. He said “Hi.”
After him ran a cocky hound with a stubby ear,
Followed by a bear who ate all the brownies.
Two birds admired each other,
and a stork drank lemonade, while a mouse preferred harder stuff.
For a brief period my new home progress included vast areas of gray sheetrock and joint compound. Every evening, after the workmen left, I discovered new characters on the walls. Some were rather grumpy.
This fellow’s hat made him feel important,
and this fellow didn’t like his neighbor.
This gent was more genial–
He tried to soothe the worrywart.
But someone was always suspicious or
feeling put out,
Until Molly appeared and told everyone to
“put your lips together and B L O W !”
Finally I discovered myself, holding my new home in my two, cupped hands.
I can’t wait to go home and enjoy it.
I know all those ghosts are still there, under a fresh coat of Marscapone cream paint.
How creative and funny. I’m so glad you jumped at the chance to create these characters. I’m laughing because one of the places I see shapes and characters is on the ceiling at the dentists office.
Unfortunately the dentist doesn’t give you a pencil to solidify those creatures while you’re being worked on!
Wonderful! now I shall for ever be wondering who is hiding beneath my wall paper on the west side of the lake.
Whoever is there, I’m sure they are benign, Shelagh!
wow….instant book powder….just put it in a long tall glass and stir!……then read!………I’d love to hear the thoughts of workmen returning to work on the house in the morning…the house whose walls had secret night life! ….I bet they have sweet descriptions of you that will be legend with the local carpenters, electricians and plumbers….and I hope they have a lot of little children and caregivers who will get lost in your books.
Ah, so that’s how books are written-I need to get me some of that powder!
Alas, the men who worked on my house seemed to lack poetic imagination. I gave away a number of books to those with children and grandchildren, but whether I am ever thought of as anything but that crazy artist, I have no idea.