(upbeat music) - Hello, everyone.

Thank you for joining us today.

My name is Monique Davis.

We are going to be reading a story today titled, "Ferdinand Cheval: The Postman Who Delivered A Palace" written by Anne Renaud, and illustrated by Anna Salopek.

(soft music) "In a sleepy town in southern France stands a mysterious structure.

Is it a fortress, a giant labyrinth?

The castle of a long forgotten king?

It is, in fact, the work of one person, a mailman named Ferdinand Chaval, who built it alone with nothing but his bare hands, his will, and a few tools for 33 years.

Today, this structure is a national treasure, but it was not always so.

This is the story of its creation.

Ferdinand Cheval was a solitary man who spent his days delivering mail and daydreaming.

Every morning, Monsieur Cheval sent out with a bag of mail destined for the farmers and villagers scattered throughout the French countryside.

Until one day, when a rock on his path made him stumble.

A stumbling rock, you could say.

Monsieur Cheval marveled at this rock, for it was nothing like he had ever seen before.

'Nature can create such beauty,' he thought, as he dropped it into his mail bag, and there it sat until he returned home that evening where he marveled at the rock some more.

In the days that followed, Monsieur Chaval walked his mail route, and searched to find more stones as lovely as the one that had tripped him, and when he did, he pushed them to the side of his path, then returned at the end of the day to collect them.

One evening, as he admired the stones he had collected, Monsieur Cheval had a thought.

In truth, he had many.

'If nature can create such beauty, 'could I too not create beauty with these stones?

'Could they not be a reminder that despite my humble life, 'I was once here?'

And so in his evenings, after collecting the stones he had pushed aside, Monsieur Cheval began to design, though he was not an architect, build, though he was not a builder, and sculpt, though he was not a sculptor.

The stones whispered to Monsieur Cheval, and he listened.

First, the stones took on the shape of a water fountain, then a grotto, then a passageway.

In the blazing heat of summer, and the biting cold of winter, his hands shaped sandstone and limestone, flint and river stones, learning as he went, inventing his own building techniques, failing until he succeeded.

Monsieur Cheval did not believe in the word, impossible.

Just as the sun rose each morning in the East, so did a wall slowly rise.

Monsieur Cheval crafted more fountains, more grottos, and more passageways, which he adorned with sculpted dogs, and bulls, squirrels, and lions, and pointy-nosed foxes.

In the evenings, he perched on scaffolding, and built, and shaped, and carved by oil lamp.

He did not stop when his muscles ached, nor when his stomach had grumbled, nor when his hands burned with lime.

Only when his eyelids grew heavy would he leave his stones and go home.

Although he had traveled little, creatures in landscapes of far off lands came to Monsieur Cheval, and the images from the postcards, newspapers, magazines, and calendars he delivered.

Monsieur Cheval wove these images into his work.

Years went by, and still, Monsieur Cheval collected stones on his mail route, but he now attracted scornful stares.

His work was different, it stood out.

It challenged the rules of architecture, but this did not stop Monsieur Cheval.

While his neighbors grew cabbages and carrots, he continued growing his dream to craft beauty with his stones.

More years went by, and still, the stones whispered to Monsieur Cheval.

His wall was almost complete.

The mummies, and giants, sculpted palm trees, olive trees, fig trees, and cactus trees that tickled the sky.

Northern and southern walls now rose, like an enormous labyrinth with more staircases, balconies, alcoves, and sculpted animals.

Monsieur Cheval began calling his work his palace, his dream palace, his ideal palace.

Now, there rose a western wall with six columns, one for each letter in his name, Cheval.

His palace also had words, so many words, which Monsieur Cheval carved into the stone so his thoughts could be read.

'Passerby, all that you see is a work of one peasant.

'In creating this rock, I wanted to prove 'what the will can accomplish.

'At every age, I learned that with persistence, 'hard work, and courage, 'one can assuredly achieve anything.

'It is not time that passes, it is us.'

By now, neighbors and passerby began seeing his work differently.

Scornful looks softened, journalists wrote articles about him in newspapers, people had begun to see the beauty.

Only after 33 years had gone by did the stones stop whispering to Monsieur Cheval.

He then took his stumbling rock, and mounted it high on his palace for everyone to see.

'I have crafted a thing of beauty, just like nature, 'and despite my humble life, 'there is now a reminder of my time here,' he thought.

Monsieur Cheval never did believe in the word, impossible."

(upbeat music)