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.

I will have more precious autumn picture books to share and recommend in the coming weeks, but since Halloween is fast approaching, I thought I’d do a roundup of some of our favorite Halloween stories. Beware when shopping for Halloween books. There’s a lot of junk out there. Seriously, if it’s a TV or movie character starring in a Halloween book, skip it.

I promise none of these books are scary. My older son is too sensitive (thus far) for scary Halloween stories. And Asher really doesn’t like “keepy guys.”

Clockwise:

Julia Donaldson’s Room on the Broom — This comical story, illustrated by Axel Scheffler, about a friendly witch who drops one thing after another off her broom while she’s flying is full of fun rhymes and cutsey animals. Each time she drops an item, such as her wand or hat, a friendly creature finds it and returns it, and thereafter becomes a traveling companion. The group does finally meet a scary dragon, but through their adventures, broom-riding friends become fearsome enough themselves to frighten that dragon away. As this book is fairly wordy for a picture book, I’d say it’s perfect for 4- to 8-year-olds. This is a Nice Witch Book, of which I am in favor, speaking as a grown woman who had many, many nightmares about witches when I was a small girl.

Kevin Lewis’s The Runaway Pumpkin — This Halloween picture book illustrated by S. D. Schindler is an all-time favorite in our house. Lewis has a gift for rhythm, and his refrain robustly beats off the page predictably and dramatically. I challenge you to read this book to your kids without slapping your thigh or tapping your toe in time. After finding the most giant pumpkin ever grown and rolling it homeward, the three children of this extended family get more than they bargained for! It’s all good in the end, because grandma cooks up delicious pumpkin goodies—just in time for Halloween.

Mary Serfozo’s Plumply, Dumply Pumpkin — Illustrated by Valerie Petrone, this book is great book for toddlers. It’s simple and sweet, and full of yumpcious, made-up words. The tiger goes looking for the perfect pumpkin for his jack-o’-lantern, and finds it, of course.

Norman Bridwell’s The Witch Next Door and Other Stories — This collection of four Witch Next Door stories by the creator of Clifford the Big Red Dog is a classic. It must be, right?—because I read these stories when I was a kid. A good witch moves into a “normal” neighborhood and quickly teaches everyone a thing or two about being good and neighborly. It gets my approval because it’s another Nice Witch Book and always has my boys (3 and 8 ) laughing.

Peter Glassman’s My Working Mom — OK, I admit I bought this one on lark when Lucas was less than a year old. Yes, it’s another Nice Witch Book. The little girl in the story explains how it can sometimes be challenging when you have a mom who works, especially when Mom’s busy and her job is kinda weird. Yes, it appeals to me on so many levels. Eventually, the little girl in the story comes to realize it’s kinda cool to have such an interesting mom, who has her hands in so many … cauldrons. Cute and funny. Not scary, although Mom’s cooking is … adventurous, and Career Day at school has never been so fun.

Two more favorites:

Tasha Tudor’s Pumpkin Moonshine — First copyrighted in 1938, this is a sweet story about a Sylvie Ann who picks a fine pumpkin to make a pumpkin moonshine, but it rolls out of control down the hill! Perhaps this book was Lewis’s inspiration for The Runaway Pumpkin. If you’re fond of books set in “simpler times,” this is a lovely addition to any young child’s library.

Lauren Thompson’s Mouse’s First Halloween — A great first Halloween book for babies and preschoolers. Illustrated by Buket Erdogan, this book explores all kinds of things Mouse thinks are spooky, only to find that they are really “Not so scary after all.” We have the board book edition and it has served us well.

If you have read all this way, you might be asking yourself why we have so many Halloween books. (My husband might be asking that also.) Here’s part of the reason: In our home, after Halloween, the Candy Fairy visits in the night. If we leave out candy for the Candy Fairy to feed to her children, she leaves a little gift in its place.

Happy reading!

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.

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.”

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.

This 6 1/2 inch by 8 1/4 inch copy of Cinderella has been mine for as long as I can remember. I think it belonged to my father before me. It’s a Wonder Books edition retold by Evelyn Andreas with illustrations by Ruth Ives, copyright 1954. The title page and inside front cover are decorated with “letters” drawn in blue ballpoint ink—probably they are my handiwork, but possibly my father’s.

I can remember poring over this book for hours as a girl. I was fascinated by the rich, velvety illustrations, which were different from the prevailing and still ubiquitous Disney Cinderella images. I used to wonder what exactly made the stepsisters look ugly.

Also, I used to try to decide who was more beautiful—Cinderella or her fairy godmother, with her green chiffon gown and tiny ankles. The fairy’s yellow hair and wings were captivating.

Even the horses were beautiful, and I was a big fan of horses—especially magical white ones.

But the piece de resistance, to my young heart, was the golden gown of silk that Cinderella wore. She is so glamorous and dainty.

Of course, the Prince falls madly in love with her, forsaking all of his other guests at the ball. “Indeed, Cinderella and the Prince were the handsomest couple on the dance floor. And the Prince never left Cinderella’s side.”

Cinderella flees at the first note of twelve midnight, but it is too late. The coach, footmen, and horses vanish and she walks home alone. (The little rock was holding the book open for me.)

The Prince himself goes door to door looking for his beloved, and although they try, Cinderella’s stepsisters cannot fit the sole glass slipper Cinderella had left behind on the palace steps. Cinderella shyly asks to try the slipper on. I am glad she asks for herself.

I used to gaze at this illustration a lot, too. The page begins with “A great wedding was held.” Why don’t we get to see the wedding, I wondered. How genteel that they are dining in the woods, except—they have no food. They are completely absorbed in each other. This was what “happily ever after” meant to me.

The inside back cover advertises over 150 wonderful Wonder Books, with washable covers and “new, long-life binding.” The binding on my book holding up pretty well; the spine is broken, however, and I can see the stitching. The book’s price when new was 29¢. I think whoever bought this book would be pleased. We got our money’s worth, I think.