I got this book for my birthday years and years ago. Maybe 25 years ago. It is weird to say 25 years ago and know that theoretically, I could remember something that happened a quarter of a century ago. If I didn't have a terrible memory, that is.
Mom's inscription to me. I do love winter.
My little sister Olivia apparently wanted to make it hers, so she thoroughly stamped her name to counteract the inscription. There were a lot more stamps than just this. Ha! Didn't work, Livie! Mom just gave it to me.
I had forgotten that Mom gave this to me once upon a time and had my own copy of it. I had pulled it out to write a blog post about it and that afternoon, Mom dropped off this one. Pretty much fate. (It must have been a slow day for fate to get so concerned about which copy I photographed.)
Part of the motivation behind this book was to collect winter poems that have nothing to do with religion or Christmas. They wanted to have poems everyone could enjoy, no matter who they were.
It is an awesome collection of poems and the illustrations pair particularly well with them.
The editor and illustrator actually live together in a farmhouse in Oregon, so a lot of the illustrations feature the editor or their families or friends. The illustrations are gorgeous.
This is from the poem Oregon Winter
I adore this poem.
This is with "Greasy Joan doth keel the pot" and that is the editor there at the sink, while the illustrator's son in law brings in the firewood and the illustrator's daughter and grandson sit at the table.
I love homey little details like that.
This reminds me of Northern New York farms, so I particularly love this one.
That is the illustrator's grandson, containing the germ.
oh..... so gorgeous!
The back cover. Cozy and warm.