Frogs and moths and ghosts and picture books
At Louis’ second birthday party last month, as tiny, costumed kids dressed as frogs, zebras and moths raced around the yard, my husband Ken sat down to browse one of the books that Louis had received for his birthday. Within minutes, five little boys swarmed around him, demanding to know the story. Maybe it was Ken’s silvery moth antennae (which made him look more like My Favourite Martian than any member of the Lepidoptera order), maybe it was his easy-going grandfatherly vibe or maybe it was that they are all book lovers but it was a magic moment.
I’d meant to post these images along with yesterday’s blog but knocking up posts at midnight isn’t really conducive to coherent thinking. It’s late on Friday night in WA but it’s already Saturday in the eastern states. I’ve just returned from Albany on an evening flight. The day was full of discussions of books and stories, intensive writing workshops with Year 7 & 8 students, then a good dose of the best coffee in Albany, a visit to the ‘sock fence‘, the beach, and Jon Doust‘s garlic patch. Action-packed.
Back in Fremantle, the old prison hospital is making its usual creaky midnight sounds – probably the ghosts settling in for the night, wandering through the galleries and hallways lined with books and illustrations. Do ghosts flock to stories in the same way that children do? I might just have to pull out a good book and find out.