Springtime Reads

Spring is here. With the daf­fodils and the blood­root, the tulips and Dutchmen’s britch­es come thoughts of favorite children’s books.

The Boy Who Didn't Believe in SpringWe can­not let the sea­son pass with­out a men­tion of Lucille Clifton’s mas­ter­piece, The Boy Who Didn’t Believe in Spring. The book, illus­trat­ed by Brin­ton Turkle, was pub­lished in 1973 and has nev­er gone out of print — 52 years in print and it seems as if it were writ­ten last year. Spring nev­er goes out of style. And we nev­er tire of read­ing about the young boy King Shabazz and his friend Tony Polito.

Once upon a time there was a lit­tle boy named King Shabazz who didn’t believe in spring. ‘No such thing!’ he would whis­per every time the teacher talked about spring in school.”

When King Shabazz decides he’s had enough talk about spring he puts on his shades and his jack­et, finds his friend Tony, and they go out. “I’m going to get me some of this spring,” he says.

Tony and King Shabazz have the kind of small adven­tures that make up a child’s life. They smell the warm rolls at Weissman’s Bak­ery. They decide, after mutu­al hes­i­ta­tion, to cross the street at the stop light (which they have nev­er done by them­selves before), they stand by the door at the bar-b‑q take­out and take in that won­der­ful aroma.

Even­tu­al­ly they come to a small vacant lot. And “…right in the mid­dle — a car! It was beau­ti­ful. The wheels were gone and so were the doors, but it was dark red and sit­ting high on a dirt mound in the mid­dle of the lot.

Oh man, oh man,’ whis­pered King.

Oh man,’ whis­pered Tony.”

But there’s more. “Then they heard the noise.” They find spring on the seat of that old “beau­ti­ful” car. And what they find is beau­ty and won­der in the form of a bird’s nest with four blue eggs.

Then Tony’s big broth­er Sam shows up and the spell is bro­ken — almost. “Spring is here,’ [King] whis­pered to Tony.” And we know he is right.

We love these boys. We love that beau­ti­ful old rust­ed out car with bird’s eggs inside it. And most of all we love Lucille Clifton for her skill in show­ing us the beau­ty and won­der that is everywhere.

illustration from The Boy Who Didn't Believe in Spring
Illus­tra­tion © copy­right Brin­ton Turkle, from The Boy Who Didn’t Believe in Spring,
writ­ten by Lucille Clifton, Dut­ton Books, 1973

Some of the Days of Everett Anderson

King Shabazz’s sto­ry has nev­er gone out of print, but Lucille Clifton wrote about anoth­er won­der­ful boy, Everett Ander­son, and those books are out of print.

Some of the Days of Everett Ander­son (1970)

Everett Ander­son Christ­mas Com­ing (1971)

Everett Anderson’s Year (1974)

Everett Anderson’s Friend (1976)

Everett Anderson’s 1−2−3 (1978)

Everett Anderson’s Nine Month Long (1978)

Everett Anderson’s Good-bye (1983)

One of the Prob­lems of Everett Ander­son (2001)

We would love to see a re-issue of these won­der­ful books. If you agree per­haps you can help by writ­ing to:

Books for Young Read­ers
Hen­ry Holt and Com­pa­ny
120 Broad­way
New York, NY 10271

And we will do the same.

Harlem GrownSpring is also a time for plant­i­ng, for dream­ing about gar­dens. This is a new favorite, a sto­ry of trans­for­ma­tion, of redeem­ing some­thing lost. Harlem Grown, How One Big Idea Trans­formed a Neigh­bor­hood, writ­ten by Tony Hillery and illus­trat­ed by Jessie Hart­land, is the sto­ry of trans­form­ing a junk-rid­den vacant lot, across the street from a school in Harlem into a thriv­ing gar­den, told by the man who did just that.

Once/ in a big city/ called New York, / in a bustling/ neighborhood/ called Harlem, /there was/an emp­ty lot. / Neveah called it the haunt­ed gar­den. / It was clut­tered with wrecked couches/ old tvs, bro­ken bot­tles, and emp­ty cans.”

A man named Mr. Tony began to vis­it Neveah’s school. And he saw the haunt­ed gar­den. He devel­oped a plan. And start­ed to clear the haunt­ed gar­den, “one piece of trash at a time.”

Soon it was cleared and Mr. Tony brought in good soil. He invit­ed Neveah to help. Then he got seeds, plants, shov­els, and a hose for water. Niveah’s friends came to help. They plant­ed 400 seedlings, “one for each kid.” As grow­ing sea­son turned into har­vest sea­son they gath­ered “toma­toes, cucum­bers, pep­pers, blue­ber­ries, /strawberries, col­lard greens, kale, basil, arugu­la.” More kids come to help, more har­vests. And then kids take home fresh veg­eta­bles, where before there were none.

An author’s note from Tony Hillery says, “Orig­i­nal­ly one gar­den plot on 134th St. our urban farm has expand­ed to 12 sites across Harlem,” that employs 22 full-time staff mem­bers. But the real impor­tance of Harlem Grown is more than veg­eta­bles, it is the stu­dents whose lives have been changed by grow­ing veg­eta­bles togeth­er. You can hear these stu­dents at this link. King Shabazz would like this place.

illustration from Harlem Grown: How One Big Idea Transformed a Neighborhood
Illus­tra­tion © copy­right Jessie Hart­land, from Harlem Grown: How One Big Idea Trans­formed a Neigh­bor­hood, writ­ten by Tony Hillery, Paula Wise­man Books / Simon & Schus­ter, 2020

and then it's springSpring can be a long time com­ing and while we wait why not read a book, maybe with a friend. Pic­ture books are writ­ten to be read out loud, and they are meant to be heard by an audi­ence, a child, or chil­dren, or adults. We love when a writer uses syn­tax and sound to help con­vey the feel­ing of the sto­ry, and Julie Fogliano has done exact­ly that in and then it’s spring, illus­trat­ed by Erin E. Stead. In a sin­gle book-long sen­tence she con­veys the yearn­ing for spring to arrive, evok­ing a kind of “are we there yet?” feeling.

Fogliano’s book (and the sin­gle sen­tence) begins 

First you have brown,
all around you have brown
then there are seeds
and a wish for rain
and then it rains
and it is still brown
but a hope­ful, very pos­si­ble sort of brown

The child and their dog wait, hope, and wor­ry that birds have eat­en the seeds or that bears have stomped on them because bears can’t read signs like “please do not stomp here there are seeds and they are trying.”

Final­ly the ground has a green­ish hum, and on a sun­ny day after a rainy day “the brown isn’t around and now you have green all around you have green.”

Just as the sin­gle sen­tence ends in a peri­od spring arrives, and our hearts are glad.

illustration from and then it's spring
Illus­tra­tion © copy­right Erin A. Stead, from and then it’s spring,
writ­ten by Julie Fogliano, Roar­ing Brook Press, 2012

just in case you want to flyJulie Fogliano is also the author of just in case you want to fly, illus­trat­ed by Chris­t­ian Robin­son who uses con­struc­tion paper, acrylic paint, and cut-out shapes to cre­ate bright and cheery pic­tures. Fogliano ded­i­cates the book “for clio rose, who fills my bag with just-in-cas­es and for all the lit­tle birds with big places to go.” This is a book to appre­ci­ate espe­cial­ly if you are some­one who always wants to bring along every­thing you might pos­si­bly (or impos­si­bly) need for your adventures. 

The book is packed with all sorts of whim­si­cal just-in-cas­es. It begins, “Just in case you want to fly here’s some wind, and here’s the sky.” The list goes rhym­ing­ly on, “Here’s a cher­ry if you need a snack” (illus­trat­ed with a rhi­no bal­anc­ing a cher­ry on their horn) “and if you get itchy here’s a scratch on the back.” There’s à la la la and a ding ding ding just in case you want to sing, a joke if you want to laugh, a tis­sue and a sigh in case you want to cry, an umbrel­la, hon­ey for your tea, and for bed­time a blan­ket, a dream, kiss­es, a pil­low, and a story.

illustration from just in case you want to fly
Illus­tra­tion © copy­right Chris­t­ian Robin­son, from just in case you want to fly,
writ­ten by Julie Fogliano, Neal Porter Books, 2019

The book ends reas­sur­ing­ly with the com­fort of “a map with an x on the spot to find your way home to me.”

This book is good for all sea­sons — whim­si­cal, charm­ing, and a delight to read out loud. And Chris­t­ian Robin­son’s illus­tra­tions fit it perfectly.

Just in case you’d like to take a tour of Chris­t­ian Robin­son’s stu­dio, here’s a link.

And just in case you want a great book to wel­come spring, be sure to read some of these.

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