A couple of weeks ago, Nora and I set out with a picnic lunch and a plan to visit as many libraries as we could in a day (which ended up being only two) and stopping to eat where we might (Plymouth's Centennial Park)." We started at our local library to see what was new. Oh boy was there a lot! The nation-wide summer reading theme this year was splish splash something or other, and walking into the children's department was like taking a vacation at the beach!
(wearing smudged sunglasses, apparently, because my camera was not cooperating) The windows were painted with sea life,
there were fish hanging from the ceiling (sshh! don't tell, I let her stand on the table), a real row boat to climb in (and a whopper of a trout to catch!), a puppet stage shaped like a submarine,
and a little beach hut complete with lawn chairs and a thatched roof. (What is that face!?) Nora soon found a little friend to play with who had an imagination as big as hers, and the fun went on for at least an hour. Oh, did I mention that there was also a lighthouse craft to make?
Preschool wonderland at the Bremen library, I tell you! Kudos Bremen librarians!
We came away with the most wonderful book, which we read for the first time tonight. Red Sings From Treetops is a 2010 Caldecott Honor Book.
It is filled with Joyce Sidman's poetry singing with the imagery of living, breathing color and its rainbow of change through the seasons. Nora interrupted the whole way through the poetry the first time we read it, because she was so fascinated with the illustrations: mixed media paintings by Pamela Zagarenski of folksy doll-like figures and animals all wearing paper crowns. Imagine a sail billowing with butterflies, "Oh, Mommy, look how they made the boat!", red music notes falling from trees like cherries, a giant paper moon rising behind black winter branches "is that a whale in the sky?!" This is one we could read and look at a hundred times and still find new questions to ask, new surprises to find hidden in the landscapes. The words and dream-like paintings lulled Nora to sleep the second time through . . . and left me clinging tightly to green, the queen of summer, and purple as it
. . . pours
into summer evenings
one shadow at a time,
so slowly
I didn't notice until
hill,
house,
book in my hand,
and Pup's
Brown spots
are all
Purple.
