Picture Books in Winter by Robert Louis Stevenson and Gyo Fujikawa

Picture Books in Winter                                 Summer fading, winter comes--                       Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,                Window robins, winter rooks,               And the picture story-books.                Water now is turned to stone              Nurse and I can walk upon;                      Still we find the flowing brooks             In the picture story-books.               All the pretty things put by,                 Wait upon the children's eye,                                 Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,              In the picture story-books.                   We may see how all things are                  Seas and cities, near and far,                 And the flying fairies' looks,                In the picture story-books.                      How am I to sing your praise,                     Happy chimney-corner days,                      Sitting safe in nursery nooks,                     Reading picture story-books?

Bed in Summer--Stevenson and Gyo Fujikawa

(I know, I did this poem last summer. But just look at this picture. I had to put it up.)

Bed in Summer

In winter I get up at night

And dress by yellow Candlelight.

In summer quite the other way,

I have to go to sleep by day.

I have to go to bed and see

The birds still hopping on the tree. 

Or hear the grown-up people's feet

Still going past me in the street.

And does it not see hard to you,

When all the sky is clear and blue,

And I should like so much to play,

To have to go to bed by day?

                                                                                          --Robert Louis Stevenson

Foreign Lands by Robert Louis Stevenson and Gyo Fujikawa

Foreign Lands

Up into the cherry tree

Who should climb but little me?

I held the trunk with both my hands

And looked abroad on foreign lands.

I saw the next door garden lie,

Adorned with flowers before my eye

And many pleasant places more

That I had never seen before.

I saw the dimpling river pass

And be the sky's blue looking glass;

The dusty roads go up and down 

With people tramping into town.

If I could find a higher tree

Father and father I should see,

To where the grown-up river slips 

Into the sea among the ships,

To where the roads on either hand

Lead onward into fairyland,

Where all the children dine at five,

And all the playthings come alive. 

                                                  --Robert Louis Stevenson

                                                                                        Gyo Fujikawa's A Children's Garden of Verses

Nest Eggs by Robert Louis Stevenson and Gyo Fujikawa

Birds all the sunny day
      Flutter and quarrel
Here in the arbour-like
      Tent of the laurel.

Here in the fork
      The brown nest is seated;
Four little blue eggs
      The mother keeps heated.

While we stand watching her
      Staring like gabies,
Safe in each egg are the
      Bird’s little babies.

Soon the frail eggs they shall
      Chip, and upspringing
Make all the April woods
      Merry with singing.

Younger than we are,
      O children, and frailer,
Soon in the blue air they’ll be,
      Singer and sailor.

We, so much older,
      Taller and stronger,
We shall look down on the
      Birdies no longer.

They shall go flying
      With musical speeches
High overhead in the
      Tops of the beeches.

In spite of our wisdom
      And sensible talking,
We on our feet must go
      Plodding and walking.

Wintertime by Robert Louis Stevenson and Gyo Fujikawa

Late lies the wintery sun abed, 

A frosty, fiery sleepyhead; 

Blinks but an hour or two; and then, 

A blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies,

At morning in the dark I rise;

And shivering in my nakedness,

By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

Clove by the jolly fire I sit 

To warm my frozen bones a bit;

Or with a reindeer sled, explore

The colder countries round the door.

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap 

Me in my comforter and cap;

The cold wind burns my face, and blows 

It's frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sodl

Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;

And tree and house, and hill and lake, 

Are frosted like a wedding cake.

                                                --Robert Louis Stevenson

I adore Gyo Fujikawa!!

Oh, What a Busy Day by Gyo Fujikawa

I love, love, love Gyo Fujikawa! When I was a little kid, we had the ABC book by Fujikawa, and I thought it was perfectly delightful. I love the colors, the kids, and the joy. 

This book is about a little kid's day. Starting with the sunrise. Or even just before it, depending on the child. 

Breakfast is an unconstrained delight!

Springtime hide and seek.

Rainy days

Almost all of Fujikawa's books are alternating color and black and white. Which makes the color pages pop out even more. 

Gyo Fujikawa was putting diversity in his kids books before diversity was cool. 

Isn't this a fabulous garden?

Note the nasturtiums. For some reasons, if an illustrator includes nasturtiums, it makes me irrationally happy. 

Bird nests.

Goals and ambitions

How can you not love a book with a page about kindness?

A few dozen kids going to be nice to one poor, beleaguered old woman. Aren't they cheerful? 

Fujikawa includes some pages about sadness. Which is nice. Why is sadness, such a human emotion, so often glossed over?

If people don't like this book, it is generally because of this very, very sad story--The Babes in the Wood. Spoiler alert--they laid down and died. If you don't want your child to know people die, this could be a disturbing page.

Loving babies is an important part of any day.

A sweet papoose

Mud

Out in the fields in the wind

Who knows what this is all about. But it is fun!

I love, love spring. But I do love the coziness of this picture. And yearn, ever so slightly for cozy days.

Happiness! I love winter scenes.

Simple words that make things nice

Evening. I want that desk. 

And good night, fair people, goodnight!