One weekend morning, Dave and I were companionably engaged in parallel play across the upstairs landing from each other, I in the study at my laptop, Dave in the bathroom tearing walls down to the studs.
I heard him pause and say, "Huh."
Then, more construction noise, another pause, another "Huh."
Then, more construction noise, another pause, and, "Dotty, come here for a sec."
He pointed, I scrutinized.
"Oyster crackers," I pronounced.
Indeed, about two dozen intact oyster crackers nestled in fiberglass insulation in the space between the wall of the bathroom and the wall of the adjacent bedroom.
Defies imagination, but there you have it.
I think of those oyster crackers every now and then when I paint. In the end, most of my paintings have more layers on them than we had layers on our bathroom studs. Usually, well over half of what lies beneath the surface of my completed pieces isn't visible.
Defies imagination sometimes, but there you have it.
Those of you who follow my blog or my Instagram page, however, often get to see the oyster crackers as I tuck them into place.
|where I left off yesterday|
|rotated my paper end-to-end,|
added yellows, orange-pink, and orange-red on top of India ink
|rotated my paper every which way, flung some drops of India ink, and dribbled yellow latex|