(yes, it all started in the shower – please don’t judge)

Hi. I’m Celeste Waters (I know right!? - it feels like Puddleverse destiny).

Have you ever had an idea that just wouldn’t leave you alone? Like a catchy song, or a Coffee Table Book about Coffee Table Books? For almost a decade, mine was literally a wet floor.

Every single morning, while trying to wake up in the shower, the tap would start its dramatic solo — drip… drip… drip — and in the splashes at my feet, something magical would happen.

I started seeing little creatures in the puddles. Not just any creatures — we’re talking monsters, dragons, big googly eyes and snouts, happy witches, even entire splash-battles playing out in wet footprints and soggy bathmats.

Much to my husband’s daily frustration, this meant my showers got… longer.
He probably thought I was just zoning out, but in truth, I was conducting a full symphony of aquatic creatures on the bathroom floor.

Eventually, the puddles staged a rebellion. They whispered (or, okay, maybe shouted): “We’re alive too! Draw us! Show the world!” And so I did.

One morning, after nearly slipping on a particularly expressive blob, I leapt out of the shower, dodged my dog (who was about to lick the creature away, yes, seriously), grabbed my phone and snapped a photo. Then I printed it out, traced the splash onto fresh paper the old-school way — with a window, some sunshine, and very little tech sense— and started painting.

I’ve always been creative but never believed I was “good at drawing.” Newsflash: puddles don’t care. They’re not perfect, and neither was I. But I did it anyway — and it was fun. Actually, it was ridiculously fun.

So, I showed a few friends and family. They smiled, laughed, and said things like: “Hey… that’s pretty cool.” and “Great, but I see something different.”
Which is basically the Holy Grail of compliments in Aussie lingo.

But life has a way of keeping your wildest ideas on the backburner, behind the laundry pile, the job, the deadlines, and the chicken defrosting in the sink. Until the puddles got louder.

They started showing up everywhere: on overseas holidays, on car bonnets, in spilt milk, in shadows, footpath grime — even my husband and friends began sending me photos like, “this one’s definitely a lizard in a sombrero.”

In early 2025, I was diagnosed with ADHD, and suddenly, the way my brain worked finally made sense — the pattern-seeing, the imagination explosions, the creative tangents. It was a game-changer. I also discovered that the thing I’d been doing all along had a name: pareidolia — the ability to see faces or creatures in random objects. (Everybody’s brain does this but apparently not everyone sees a bear in the toast crumbs or a snail in the shampoo blob as much as the neuro diverse. Who knew?) Did you know a Cheeto shaped like the Pokémon Charizard, sold at auction for $87,840 in early 2025?

The real cruncher confirming my thinking “this could actually share joy!” was after my friend texted me the most amazing puddle, post storm, whilst I was at work which triggered some excitement (I know… small things huh!?). I presented it to my colleagues like a proud mother sharing a snapshot of her new born and ended upstairs in my boss’s office where she interrupted her spreadsheets to start googling giant squid images this wet patch reminded her of and PC, our 72 year old handyman debating how it looked more like a sea-dragon! There was connection, imagination and laughter……..over a puddle!

Well. I hyper focused. Hard. I learnt how to paint dragon eyes alongside tutorials explaining social media reels and websites, sketched, painted, dove headfirst into the puddle-shaped rabbit hole — visiting Officeworks like a gremlin in search of the perfect brush and riding the dopamine rush when I bought my first metallic water-colour palette. I began posting my art online. And, surprise: people liked it.

Now? I’m inviting you in.
The Puddleverse is full of waiting creatures, ready to be discovered by curious kids, distracted adults, and anyone who could use a spark of joy, imagination, or a really good reason to get off their screen and stare at the ground for once.

If it’s not your cuppa tea, great.  Thanks for reading. (Yes, I saw the little frog-face in your Earl Grey too.)  But maybe it’s your child’s, student’s or grandfather’s chance to partake in puddle art because guess what? Every puddle is a star in disguise.

…and the best things in life are still free,

weird, and hiding in plain sight.