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Can you tell who they are?
Added Note- Since everyone's having such a hard time, I'm thinking of giving the extra incentive of a prize. The first person to figure it out wins an aromatherapy necklace.
(The answer as well as a fifth carved pumpkin can be found here.)
I’ve been thinking about carving these particular jack-o-lanterns for over a year, even before I carved this little guy on a watermelon. Since these were relatively simple (with only white, black and 1 shade of gray), the actual carving part (minus the cleaning out and scraping) took just about an hour per pumpkin.
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We've finally built up a pretty handy little collection of tools, which makes the whole process go much smoother.
-For cleaning the inside of the pumpkin (as well as scraping it down to a good thickness) ceramic loop tools or pottery scrapers work really well.
-We mark the design with a regular push pin.
-We use the little saws from the pumpkin carving sets to cut out the pieces, though I'm thinking of making something like this for next year.
-For refining the depth of the design on the areas with the skin removed (thinner equals lighter) cheap wood carving tools or a linoleum cutting set work really well.
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The night that I came up with the idea for these designs, I sat up late, searching the internet for the right pictures to use. Every time I opened up a picture of the guy on the left, I would hear a sound from the kitchen. The sound was a minor one, something like the house settling, so I didn’t pay attention at first. But as I clicked into the various pages, there it would be again and again.
Eventually, I noticed it and I started to freak myself out. It was at this point that I realized that it was well after one in the morning and I was the only one awake in the house. And here’s the thing, I was actually unable to get myself to stand up from the computer and walk down the hallway to the bedroom. To do that, I’d not only need to walk past the kitchen where the noises were coming from, but also our sliding glass door and I was pretty sure that I hadn’t pulled the curtains that night.
I thought about calling for help, “Jeeeeeeeff, honey, please come and walk me to bed.” But I really didn’t want to admit how freaked out I was. So, I opened up an audio book and listened to it for, honest to God, another hour before I had distracted myself sufficiently to be fairly confidant that I could walk down the hallway instead of running at a full sprint, giggling and squealing like a little girl.
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