“He was a Dutch mouse, and lived in a windmill with a little girl named Marsha. The windmill belonged to Marsha’s father and mother, but Mr. Poof belonged to Marsha.”
– Rena & John Jacob Niles, Mr. Poof’s Discovery
I’m marveling at Wesley’s masterful graphic illustrations for Larkspur’s newest title. There was a time when Gray was “holding auditions” for a backup engraver. I’m proud to say that I was someone who got a tryout, but Joanne earned the gig (and soundly, too). If Bates can bang out 18 wood blocks for one tale, surely I can create nearly that quantity of collage miniatures by June. (Does that guy over there walking toward April have a starting gun in his hand?)
Today’s sight bite— The image of a mouse, printed with superb artisanship, —c-l-i-c-k— emblematic of a literary partnership that I’ve had the great fortune to observe with intimacy, awe, and gratitude.