Asher is really into dragons. He has been playing dragon for quite some time, but we were recently inspired by this book, Tell Me a Dragon, by Jackie Morris. It is simply beautiful and I fully recommend it. It was published in 2009 by Frances Lincoln Children’s Books.

We have been wanting to make some wooden toy figures for a long time, so making him a dragon for Christmas seemed like just the right thing. We used a scroll saw with a blade that turned out to be too lightweight for the job, and yet, it got the job done.

I drew the dragon on paper and cut it out, then I traced it onto a piece of pine. I wish I had paid more attention to the back side of the board, as the back was flawed and we didn’t notice until our dragon was cut out. (Thank you, Ian, for doing the scary work with the saw.) At this point, we were so pleased with our cutout that there was no turning back.

I used regular old acrylic craft paints, slightly watered down, to make a kind of color wash. The wood absorbed the wetness quickly, but there were a few seconds with each application when the colors would blend nicely like watercolors. I painted this dragon in several sessions because I needed to let it dry in between.

The face was last, and I’ll admit I was really scared I’d mess up on the face! I was hoping to achieve a face that looked both friendly and fierce—kind of a tall order! (I am really pleased with how the tail works like a handle. It feels really sturdy.)

Of course, what do you do with just a dragon? Along the way, we created a knight and gave him a horse to ride. The horse had to be to scale to the knight, who was done first, but couldn’t be as big as the dragon. Tricky!

Ian was really clever with the knight’s paint job, I think. They look marvelous together. The figures were sanded lightly after painting to smooth them, then finished with a beeswax and lavender furniture polish. They smell and feel delightful.

Now, let’s hope Asher plays with them!

We have owned this treasure of a book by Jonathan London for a number of years. It is more than a Thanksgiving book and I realize we should read it more often because it’s not just a seasonal story, although the setting is clearly autunn. The paintings are by Gregory Manchess, who is, according to the book jacket, a self-taught artist. (Wow!)

A father and son take a walk in the woods. The father says “thank you” to all the wonders he encounters along the way, leading his son by example. There is no plot; just a nature walk.

“Thank you, Mother Earth. Thank you, Father Sky. Thank you for this day.”

“Like his Indian friends—singers and storytellers—Dad believes that the things of nature are a gift. And that in return, we must give something back. We must give thanks.”

I like the message of this book, which dovetails so beautifully with Waldorf education’s attitude of reverence: That nature is valuable even in its smallest expression, such as the “tiny beings with six or eight legs, weaving their tiny stories close to the earth.” That we are privileged to witness and walk among the plants and creatures of our earth. That we should be grateful for all the beauty and opportunity nature provides. And that gratitude is a practice—something that we work at and nourish within us. It makes you feel good.

This beautiful book is by one of the most prolific and popular children’s writers of all time, Jane Yolen. Child of Faerie, Child of Earth is a sweet poem in which a magical boy meets a human girl, and together they visit each other’s very different worlds.

“He was a child of faerie folk.
A child of sky and air,
And she was a child of humankind,
Of earth and toil and care.
They met in the dusk of Hallow’s Eve,
When widows grieve
In widow’s weave.
They met in the dark of Hallow’s Eve,
She had flowers in her hair.”

The girl spends an enchanted night dancing among the faeries. The boy asks her to stay and be his elven queen; “Become a child of night, we’ll dance between the hollow hills bedecked in candlelight.”

But she knows better; it’s not her place. In turn, she leads him into her daytime world, and shows him the colors and textures of human life.

“He drank cold milk and ate brown bread.
He made a bed.
He cleaned a shed.
He followed everywhere she led,
Then round about again.”

“Oh stay with me dear faerie child,
And live here on the land.
We’ll till the soil, we’ll plow the field,
We’ll harvest hand in hand.”

He considers her offer under the cold, cold stars, but realizes this will never do. “You work. I play. I must away. I’ll keep the night and you the day.”

And so they part, but not without an exchange of gifts; she gives a fresh hen’s egg and with his magic, he extracts a feather from within it (“I give you this that comes from that”)—tokens for each to keep and to guide each back to the other. They are forever friends.

This book is so charming and full of magic. It’s perfect for little ones who believe in faerie folk and the magic of Halloween, but aren’t ready for the scary stuff.

“Be bold, be brave, be unafraid, and join that faerie ring.”

Jane Dyer is the illustrator of something like fifty children’s books, including Time for Bed by Mem Fox and When Mama Comes Home Tonight by Eileen Spinelli, two other favorites for small children.

Inspired by SouleMama {this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

September

Dear apple, on your branch,
please fall into my hat.
For if I take you off the tree,
They’ll not be pleased with that!

Apples red and apples green,
please fall down upon the ground.
For if I pick you off the tree,
I cannot say how you’ve been found.

Apples here and apples there,
please fall into my hand.
My little sisters stand and stare
and wait for you to land.

Hips and haws and thistles tall
stand all around the tree.
All will soon be picked and stored.
Is there not just one for me?

Apples, apples, everywhere,
please let me have just one,
and just two more, please, tree,
then September will be done.

Goodness, I cannot wait to go to Apple Hill!

I am not the only one in love with Elsa Beskow books—they are practically as much a staple in the Waldorf world as fresh bread and vegetable barley soup. And I’ll also admit that I love this book, Around the Year, more than my children do, partly because I appreciate poetry and they’re not quite so keen on it, and partly because they simply don’t pay too much attention to the months of the year. They live in the moment and experience what’s now. But that’s why these month poems by Beskow are great, in my opinion. They capture the quality and feeling of each month from a child’s perspective. I think this book is a keeper, meaning it might just be delightful to my kids for many years, rather than something they’ll quickly outgrow.

This little treasure of a book, Astro Bunnies, isn’t fancy, isn’t old, isn’t even hardbound. It’s a Scholastic paperback that I found in a used bookstore and snatched up years ago. We first encountered it when we checked it out from the library when Lucas was small. The author is Christine Loomis, who wrote two other delightful Bunnies books—Coyboy Bunnies (1997) and Scuba Bunnies (2004). The illustrations in Astro Bunnies are by Ora Eitan.

Loomis’s text is lilting and fun; perfect for preschoolers or early readers with an affectionate ear for rhyme. Eitan’s illustrations have a retro-futuristic feel that I find appealing. (I’m sure that kind of style has a name in the art world, but I don’t know what it is.)

My boys love the idea of space travel and the juxtaposition of cuddly white bunnies and astronauts is a successful one. The bunnies put on space suits and go for a space walk, “ride their rockets in slow motion through a silent starry ocean,” and collect data for science. Really, what could be better than that?

Their adventure doesn’t stop there, however. “Then a ship appears in space. Bunnies from another place!” Preschool Lucas used to laugh and laugh at the alien bunnies.

Today, Lucas is home sick and since I had this book on my mind anyway, I asked him to read it to me. When the tables turn like this and he reads to me, it’s simply magical, no matter the stutters or mistakes. His reading skills are developing and he’s now in need of practice, practice, practice. We talked about tricky words (spelling of motion/ocean and dial/smile; sound differences of scouting/touring) and how sometimes you just have to memorize them.

To keep him busy today and help him practice his cursive writing, he is now copying out some words from this book for me—a quick little foray into homeschooling and homework, which is something he is keen to do (for now). It’s a win-win deal, except for the sniffles and fever.

I found this gorgeous book, Nicolo’s Unicorn, online a few years ago and I have to say, I love it. It was written by Sylvaine Nahas and illustrated by Bimba Landmann. My copy is a first edition published by Watson-Guptill Publications and printed in Italy in 2001.

This is a inspiring story paired with beautiful artwork that reminds me of medieval paintings. The pages are gilded with gold metallic ink so the book shimmers in places on every page—the moon, the stars, the unicorn’s horn, and leaves.

Nicolo lives in Venice. He is always daydreaming about meeting a unicorn with a golden horn and a silver mane. Everyone tells Nicolo he is being silly, “You know there’s no such thing as a unicorn.”

He has trouble concentrating in school, and when his teacher asks him what he’s daydreaming about he tells her. “I bet it will be able to run very fast. Do you think it will let me ride on its back?” Nicolo’s answer doesn’t impress his teacher.

His wish is so earnest that he cannot eat. Nicolo’s mother asks him why he hasn’t eaten his dinner. “I’m dreaming about meeting a unicorn…. I bet it will eat tiny magic white flowers. Do you think it will let me taste one?”

As he gazes up to the moon, his aunt asks Nicolo the same question, “What are you daydreaming about?” He tells her he thinks his unicorn will be able to fly all the way to the moon!

“Dont be silly,” says his aunt. “You know there’s no such thing as a unicorn. Now stop daydreaming and let’s go home!”

But Nicolo doesn’t want to stop. The next day he runs to his grandfather’s house to ask if he knows where to find a unicorn. Indeed, grandfather does know.

“Look in colors and paintbrushes. You can make unicorns appear with your very own hands. Look in flutes and tambourines. You will hear them galloping in the music. Look in the books you read. You will find a unicorn lurking behind every page.

“Your unicorn does exist, Nicolo…. Don’t ever stop looking, even when you’re all grown up. Don’t ever stop dreaming about meeting a unicorn.”

Busy, busy, busy summer! We still have three and a half more weeks off school and I’m pleased to say I am not so fed up with summer vacation that I’m ready to tear my hair out like in other past, lonely summers.

I’ve been working steadily and the kids have greatly enjoyed their various activities (preschool, summer camps, swim team, playgroup play dates, and lots of time with friends.) I have gobs of work to do in the next two weeks before our trip to Burning Man, but I’m keeping calm and carrying on, as they say.

I’m happy to report that I’ve even been able to squeeze in a little reading for pleasure, which isn’t always possible in my world. Here’s what I’ve been reading, in addition to all the books I read to my kids:

Little House in the Big Woods, by Laura Ingalls Wilder

The classic, just as you remember it, which I may or may not have read when I was a kid. It seems to me I read some of these books, but I really don’t remember them. As farming and domestic arts are a big part of the third-grade curriculum at Lucas’s school, I’m pretty sure this is on the reading list for this year. We are starting now to read it aloud. Next up, Farmer Boy.

Magyk (Septimus Heap Book One), by Angie Sage

This is a newish fantasy series for the 9- to 12-year-old crowd. There are at least five of these Septimus Heap books. The back cover says that fans of Harry Potter will love Septimus Heap, which is why I bought it. I tend to agree, although there are plenty of differences and unique characteristics in this fantasy world. I would be happy to read this aloud to the younger children in that recommended age group; it’s not too scary. Orphaned children, plenty of magyk spells, a dragon boat—really what more could you ask for?

Inkheart, by Cornelia Funk

What can I say? I love children’s fiction! Inkheart is the first of another fantasy series for children 9 to 12 years old. This is one of those books about a book—a fascinating and dangerous world leaks out of the pages of a book and into our world. Villains abound in this story, and their dastardly deeds go unchecked, but for the efforts of a bookish girl, her book-restoring father, and a homesick loner thrust out of his storybook and marooned here. I’d say this series is better for those on the upper end of that age bracket, even for precocious readers. It was very fun and I’m looking forward to reading the sequel. Meggie is a wonderful 12-year-old heroine who loves books—like me!

Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse, by Robert Rankin

I bought this book for its title alone. Rankin is kind of a mix of Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams, and this book has a liberal dose of Who Framed Roger Rabbit, too. It’s a murder mystery set in Toy City, where toys and dolls walk and talk and drink alcohol. It was fun and irreverent, and I’m curious about Rankin’s other books, but I think this novel should have wrapped up about 40 pages before it actually did.

The Gates, by John Connolly

I’ve never read John Connolly before this one, which I picked up at the library because it had a nifty cover and was featured in the “new titles” section. The protagonist is 11 years old, but I’m not quite sure if this book is a juvenile novel or an adult novel. I would recommend it! Very fun. The gates of hell open up and assorted demons escape into an English suburban community. Only the boy and his dog understand how evil the neighbors down the street really are.

The Robber Bride, by Margaret Atwood

I’m still trying to get through this book. For some reason I put it down and picked it up repeatedly. I’ll guess the reason is simply that life happened. This is my first Atwood book—I know, I know. I should have read lots of her work before now—at least The Handmaid’s Tale—but I haven’t. (I blame all the ninjas and zombies.) So, despite the fact that it’s taking me forever to read this novel about five women, one of whom has profoundly betrayed all the rest, supposedly died, and then reappeared to intersect their lives again should not reflect on the author. The fault is mine. Atwood’s book is has a rich and intelligent plot and her characters sing on the page. I hope to finish this one in the next week or so.

True love is being able to pick out library books for your lover.

The Wicked Kings of Bloon is written and illustrated by Steven Kellogg and is copyrighted 1970. Kellogg is the author and/or illustrator of many books for kids, as you can see on his website, including Is Your Mama A Llama by Deborah Guarino, a favorite in our house. As you can see, I have had Bloon since I was young enough not to realize that I shouldn’t be writing “Scool Book” on my books. My hardback copy was purchased for $1.00 probably about 1975, but that’s really just a guess.

Kellogg’s artwork is amazing—rich and colorful, textured and emotional. To my eye, it appears to be both watercolors and colored pencils.

The story contains several morals, the main one being that war is wrong and doesn’t make anyone happier.

“Bloon is a summer land of warm golden fields and tiny villages. The gentle folk who lived there spend their days walking through the flowers, telling silly stories, and snoozing in the sun.”

The citizens of East Bloon are happy, simple people living in a bucolic world near the Land of Monsters, but that isn’t a problem for them at all …

… until “the meanest hag of them all,” Hepzibah, raises her twin sons, Horridge and Heathfern, to despise one another. See how wicked she is? She’s about to mow down that flower!

“‘HORRRRRRRRIDGE! Horridge, you little wretch, why can’t you do anything right? Why can’t you be like Heathfern?'”

“‘HEATHFERN, you ugly beast, why are you so clumsy and awful? Why can’t you do anything right? Why can’t you be like Horridge?'”

That would do it, don’t you think?

By the time the boys were twenty, they had flattened their miserable shack with their fighting and Hepzibah kicked them out. “‘I hate you,’ hissed Horridge. ‘I’ll get you,’ spat Heathfern.”

Horridge left the Land of Monsters and came to the peaceful village of East Bloon, “where he found the happy villagers giggling, tickling each other, and dancing around the square.” Horridge decided he wanted to be king of East Bloon, so he threatened the villagers. “‘Unless you make me your king, I will topple the tower of your town hall at dawn tomorrow!'” And with the help of a powerful magnet, he did. The villagers, not knowing what else to do, made him their king and brought him all of their precious treasures.

Horridge grew fat from eating all day and all night. “He insulted the ladies. He punched the village elders. He threw things at the members of his court. And still he was not happy.” One day, he spied through his spyglass the friendly neighboring village of West Bloon, only there was a fat, horrible king looking back at him. Heathfern! “‘EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-YOG!’ shrieked Horridge.” And the once-peaceful village of East Bloon began to prepare for war. “The last whisper of joy went out of life in East Bloon.”

Horridge went to the Land of Monsters and enslaved a giant, cuddly monster, wrenching him away from the arms of his beloved, to be a beast of war. “For days, the gentle creature lay in chains grieving for his mate in the mountain cave while the court blacksmiths scurried about measuring him for a suit of armor.”

In time, the fateful day of battle came. Soldiers from both East Bloon and West Bloon marched out of their fortified cities. “‘Smash them! Smash them! Bash them! Crush them!’ bellowed the kings.” The war beast of East Bloon lumbered forward, until he recognized his beloved, covered tip to toe in armor of her(?) own to fight on the side of West Bloon.

“Crying out for joy, the two happy animals toppled their riders, tore off their metal plates, and fell gurgling into each other’s arms.” This was the wake-up call that the villagers needed. They whispered and conferred among themselves, and then dethroned the kings Horridge and Heathfern, in favor of a peaceful United Kingdom of Bloon.

The trappings of war were thrown off and demolished. “The East Bloon band broke into a joyous tune and the armies flung themselves into a rousing polka.” Since the brothers could not put aside their differences and join the villagers in a peaceful life …

… the villagers sent them flying …

… right back to their hag mother.

This is the first book I can remember tackling the idea of war. That these gentle people could be convinced by bullies to abandon their happy pursuits and go to war really bothered me. I used to wonder why Hepzibah was so cruel, and how anyone could think parting those two gentle creatures was OK. I guess the story is a product of its time and it was very powerful to me.

I pulled this book out last week and read it to my boys for the first time. Lucas was appropriately aghast at the behavior displayed by Hepzibah, Horridge, and Heathfern. So, I’d say the book is still doing its job.