My husband the artist

The other day I asked H to tidy up a collection of stones, sticks, pine cones, shells and the like which had found their way into our house. Expecting to come across them all dumped in an old cardboard box somewhere, I was pleasantly surprised to find this little arrangement in the entranceway:

  

It's not a good photo, but it actually makes a nice little nature corner, and appears quite artfully arranged. My surprise at this, H having a reputation as a Science Man rather than in any way an Art Man, reminded me of a little story from back in March.

When we went to Matsue for the St Patrick's Day parade, there were people doing portrait sketches so we had them draw K and T. Here are the results (by 2 different artists):

Now, they are lovely little pictures of children, but I don't really think that they look like our children at all. The next morning, I came downstairs to find this on the table:

While I had been asleep, H had had a go at drawing K, working from a photo and using K's wax crayons to do it. OK, it's hardly award-winning, but don't you think that it looks like K? A lot more than the other picture anyway, and it's far superior to anything I could have done. The biggest thing though, is that I had never, ever seen H draw anything, ever before. When I've been ineptly drawing Thomas the Tank Engine and little animals to amuse the boys, H just shrugs and says that he can't draw. After 11 years of marriage, I've found yet another side to my lovely husband.