By Leo Lionni
Leo Lionni’s Caldecott Honor–winning tale a couple of little mouse who gathers whatever strange for the lengthy wintry weather is celebrating its 50th birthday!
Winter is coming, and all of the mice are collecting foodstuff . . . aside from Frederick. but if the times develop brief and the snow starts off to fall, it’s Frederick’s tales that hot the hearts and spirits of his fellow box mice. Winner of a 1967 Caldecott Honor, Frederick has been adored by means of generations of readers.
“A well suited achievement.” —School Library Journal, starred review
“In Frederick, a mouse who's a poet from the top of his nostril to the top of his tail demonstrates possible purposeless existence is certainly faraway from that—and that we want now not stay by way of bread alone!” —Eric Carle
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Sample text
Who grows the four-leaf clovers in June? Who dims the daylight? Who lights the moon? Four little field mice who live in the sky. Four little field mice…like you and I. One is the Springmouse who turns on the showers. Then comes the Summer who paints in the flowers. The Fallmouse is next with walnuts and wheat. And Winter is last…with little cold feet. Aren’t we lucky the seasons are four? ” When Frederick had finished, they all applauded. ” Leo Lionni wrote and illustrated more than forty highly acclaimed children’s books.
Do you feel how their golden glow…” And as Frederick spoke of the sun the four little mice began to feel warmer. Was it Frederick’s voice? Was it magic? ” they asked anxiously. “Close your eyes again,” Frederick said. And when he told them of the blue periwinkles, the red poppies in the yellow wheat, and the green leaves of the berry bush, they saw the colors as clearly as if they had been painted in their minds. ” Frederick cleared his throat, waited a moment, and then, as if from a stage, he said: “Who scatters snowflakes?
They asked. “Close your eyes,” said Frederick, as he climbed on a big stone. “Now I send you the rays of the sun. Do you feel how their golden glow…” And as Frederick spoke of the sun the four little mice began to feel warmer. Was it Frederick’s voice? Was it magic? ” they asked anxiously. “Close your eyes again,” Frederick said. And when he told them of the blue periwinkles, the red poppies in the yellow wheat, and the green leaves of the berry bush, they saw the colors as clearly as if they had been painted in their minds.