Suzy Davies's Blog: Book News - Posts Tagged "snow"
Cherry Blossom Snow.
Blossom in winter’s seldom seen,
though imagination lets us dream
of faraway landscapes, in the mind’s eye,
where sea meets shore,
and land meets sky.
The vista is a fantasy -
resplendent with blossom, of cherry trees.
Pagodas- yellow, red, and green,
lend oriental charm,
to this picturesque scene.
As by the woods, and lake we tread,
and blossoms make a lovers' bed,
tranquil reflections of star-spangled sky,
and so serene, that Time drifts by.
The sound of a wind-chime fills the air,
and people come, to stand and stare,
and marvel at the trees that blow,
to cast confetti -
cherry blossom snow.
Copyright Suzy Davies 08/27/2016. All Rights Reserved.
though imagination lets us dream
of faraway landscapes, in the mind’s eye,
where sea meets shore,
and land meets sky.
The vista is a fantasy -
resplendent with blossom, of cherry trees.
Pagodas- yellow, red, and green,
lend oriental charm,
to this picturesque scene.
As by the woods, and lake we tread,
and blossoms make a lovers' bed,
tranquil reflections of star-spangled sky,
and so serene, that Time drifts by.
The sound of a wind-chime fills the air,
and people come, to stand and stare,
and marvel at the trees that blow,
to cast confetti -
cherry blossom snow.
Copyright Suzy Davies 08/27/2016. All Rights Reserved.
There's Something About Snow!
Today, it is snowing in New York! Pictures are all over social media, snapped on camera phones; the excitement is tangible.
So what is it about snow, that moves us into a frenetic state? Why does snow move the emotions? I can hear the pragmatists say because it makes the daily commute difficult, and to clear train lines, roads, and paths is a grind. Some might even say they hate snow, for the inconvenience it creates, and for the misery of being outdoors in the cold.
But then, think about when you first saw snow? How old were you? Who were you with? How did it make you feel?
My earliest memory of snow is a particularly wintry one, when I was a child. Snow was car-roof high, and my late dad and I were shovelling snow off the roof of the car. We were snowed in, in Slough, where my aunt and uncle lived! Oh, the joy of it, and the adventure. In those days we played snowball, and made a snowman, but no-one had thought of snow-angels. Every day, I looked out of the window, delighted at the prospect of another day, playing outdoors during the winter vacation, in the chill of ice and snow, safe in the knowledge that the warmth of indoors and hot soup and bread and butter awaited me.
One thing disappoints me, though. I wish my memory of snow was better! I can't remember the first time I saw snow falling on the ground. Yet, I have a vicarious memory of this.
I was teaching some young students from Gujerat, who were new to England. I can remember the joy on their faces, the first time they saw snowfall, and they danced and jumped in the air with joy in the parking lot! You could hear the music of laughter!
Yes, they were young, and I wondered what their memories of snow would be when they were older.
I think that there are reasons that snow moves our emotions when we are adults. Snow symbolizes purity and innocence, play, fun, and laughter. Seeing snow transports us back to our childhood.
And even with its drawbacks, and the responsibilities of adulthood, snow brings us together, creates opportunities for sharing experiences, and for team effort.
Snow makes everywhere look magical. The blanket of snow on the ground is a great equalizer. Even ugly places are transformed. There is a freshness and cleanliness about it. And when snow first falls, you can stand quite still, in wonder; listen to the silence.
Copyright, Suzy Davies, 09/02/2017. No Copying.
So what is it about snow, that moves us into a frenetic state? Why does snow move the emotions? I can hear the pragmatists say because it makes the daily commute difficult, and to clear train lines, roads, and paths is a grind. Some might even say they hate snow, for the inconvenience it creates, and for the misery of being outdoors in the cold.
But then, think about when you first saw snow? How old were you? Who were you with? How did it make you feel?
My earliest memory of snow is a particularly wintry one, when I was a child. Snow was car-roof high, and my late dad and I were shovelling snow off the roof of the car. We were snowed in, in Slough, where my aunt and uncle lived! Oh, the joy of it, and the adventure. In those days we played snowball, and made a snowman, but no-one had thought of snow-angels. Every day, I looked out of the window, delighted at the prospect of another day, playing outdoors during the winter vacation, in the chill of ice and snow, safe in the knowledge that the warmth of indoors and hot soup and bread and butter awaited me.
One thing disappoints me, though. I wish my memory of snow was better! I can't remember the first time I saw snow falling on the ground. Yet, I have a vicarious memory of this.
I was teaching some young students from Gujerat, who were new to England. I can remember the joy on their faces, the first time they saw snowfall, and they danced and jumped in the air with joy in the parking lot! You could hear the music of laughter!
Yes, they were young, and I wondered what their memories of snow would be when they were older.
I think that there are reasons that snow moves our emotions when we are adults. Snow symbolizes purity and innocence, play, fun, and laughter. Seeing snow transports us back to our childhood.
And even with its drawbacks, and the responsibilities of adulthood, snow brings us together, creates opportunities for sharing experiences, and for team effort.
Snow makes everywhere look magical. The blanket of snow on the ground is a great equalizer. Even ugly places are transformed. There is a freshness and cleanliness about it. And when snow first falls, you can stand quite still, in wonder; listen to the silence.
Copyright, Suzy Davies, 09/02/2017. No Copying.
Anticipating Snow ...
Slowly as the nights draw in
the brightest stars will shine again,
when skies of cloudless
midnight blue,
burn white fire of every hue.
Sunrise is gentle,
in morning hours,
and dappled light,
beneath the bowers,
streams the sunshine
in pastel shades
as Autumn closes its parades.
Some days have rain
or softest sun,
that warms the earth
in waves benign,
and migrating birds have flown -
bound for southern,
sunnier climes.
Slowly as the nights draw in
the brightest stars will shine again,
when darkest heavens, of
inky blue,
burn with fire of every hue.
And the late sun
casts shadows, long,
along the paths
where children run -
nature’s harvest in their hands
they hurry home,
their hearts are glad.
In November’s afternoons
the days seem shorter
when at school -
for round the corner
Winter’s here
and homecoming,
at end of year.
Slowly as the nights draw in
the brightest stars will shine again,
when the sky is blackest ink,
when temperatures
begin to sink.
The morning Sun,
with frail fingers,
melts ice fronds
that always linger.
Later and later
she shows her face,
and vanishes,
without a trace.
One late December afternoon
a pregnant sky
above us looms,
dazzling’s
the light, cast all around,
till the first snow,
without a sound’s,
buffeted on eastern
winds, that blow,
across this land
I love, and know.
Copyright Suzy Davies 12/11/2017. All Rights Reserved.
the brightest stars will shine again,
when skies of cloudless
midnight blue,
burn white fire of every hue.
Sunrise is gentle,
in morning hours,
and dappled light,
beneath the bowers,
streams the sunshine
in pastel shades
as Autumn closes its parades.
Some days have rain
or softest sun,
that warms the earth
in waves benign,
and migrating birds have flown -
bound for southern,
sunnier climes.
Slowly as the nights draw in
the brightest stars will shine again,
when darkest heavens, of
inky blue,
burn with fire of every hue.
And the late sun
casts shadows, long,
along the paths
where children run -
nature’s harvest in their hands
they hurry home,
their hearts are glad.
In November’s afternoons
the days seem shorter
when at school -
for round the corner
Winter’s here
and homecoming,
at end of year.
Slowly as the nights draw in
the brightest stars will shine again,
when the sky is blackest ink,
when temperatures
begin to sink.
The morning Sun,
with frail fingers,
melts ice fronds
that always linger.
Later and later
she shows her face,
and vanishes,
without a trace.
One late December afternoon
a pregnant sky
above us looms,
dazzling’s
the light, cast all around,
till the first snow,
without a sound’s,
buffeted on eastern
winds, that blow,
across this land
I love, and know.
Copyright Suzy Davies 12/11/2017. All Rights Reserved.
The Iditarod.
The race is on - Anchorage to Nome,
across the Tundra, miles from home,
sled dogs hauling sleds through snow,
in the lands of eskimos!
Sinuous bodies seem to fly,
like a wolf-pack going by!
How they thunder as they run
steaming fur, in icy sun.
The race is on - Anchorage to Nome,
across the Tundra, miles from home,
racers say faster, and faster still,
the dogs are going for the kill,
over ice and frozen streams
over land of Inuit dreams,
slippery trails on the ground,
pelting paws thunder their sound.
The race is on Anchorage to Nome,
across the Tundra, miles from home,
sunburst golden gives respite
afore spring's coldest night of nights!
Noses pointed, icy breath,
heading home to get their rest,
bodies, legs and flying paws,
across the line to great applause!
The race was on, Anchorage to Nome,
and now the sled dogs all are home;
meat is plenty for them all,
winners, losers, victors all.
In soundless hours in the snow,
I can hear them as they go,
howls pierce the air like darts -
so fast they run, their beating hearts.
Copyright Suzy Davies, 2019. All Rights Reserved.
across the Tundra, miles from home,
sled dogs hauling sleds through snow,
in the lands of eskimos!
Sinuous bodies seem to fly,
like a wolf-pack going by!
How they thunder as they run
steaming fur, in icy sun.
The race is on - Anchorage to Nome,
across the Tundra, miles from home,
racers say faster, and faster still,
the dogs are going for the kill,
over ice and frozen streams
over land of Inuit dreams,
slippery trails on the ground,
pelting paws thunder their sound.
The race is on Anchorage to Nome,
across the Tundra, miles from home,
sunburst golden gives respite
afore spring's coldest night of nights!
Noses pointed, icy breath,
heading home to get their rest,
bodies, legs and flying paws,
across the line to great applause!
The race was on, Anchorage to Nome,
and now the sled dogs all are home;
meat is plenty for them all,
winners, losers, victors all.
In soundless hours in the snow,
I can hear them as they go,
howls pierce the air like darts -
so fast they run, their beating hearts.
Copyright Suzy Davies, 2019. All Rights Reserved.
Sometimes, In Spring
Sometimes, in spring,
when blossoms blow,
I dream of ice and fire, and snow.
Of dreamy winter wonderlands,
romance of couples, holding hands.
Of starlit nights and snow-filled skies,
of snowflakes drifting before our eyes,
like cherry blossoms from the trees,
they are love letters on the breeze.
Sometimes, in winter,
in silence, deep,
when the whole world is fast asleep,
I catch a fragrance in the air,
that seems to say the spring is near.
The trees bedecked with blossoms white
glow and sparkle in the night,
shimmering echoes of love's sweet dream
whenever cherry blossom's seen.
Copyright Suzy Davies, 2019. All Rights Reserved.
when blossoms blow,
I dream of ice and fire, and snow.
Of dreamy winter wonderlands,
romance of couples, holding hands.
Of starlit nights and snow-filled skies,
of snowflakes drifting before our eyes,
like cherry blossoms from the trees,
they are love letters on the breeze.
Sometimes, in winter,
in silence, deep,
when the whole world is fast asleep,
I catch a fragrance in the air,
that seems to say the spring is near.
The trees bedecked with blossoms white
glow and sparkle in the night,
shimmering echoes of love's sweet dream
whenever cherry blossom's seen.
Copyright Suzy Davies, 2019. All Rights Reserved.
It's The Iditarod Today!
https://twitter.com/Michelebourke1/st...
Follow this link to preview the stunning artwork in our Alaskan fairytale book - "The Girl in the Red Cape" Our book is sure to delight children 8 years plus and their adults! What a great way to celebrate the great race and experience a taste of adventure!
Follow this link to preview the stunning artwork in our Alaskan fairytale book - "The Girl in the Red Cape" Our book is sure to delight children 8 years plus and their adults! What a great way to celebrate the great race and experience a taste of adventure!
Amazon Book Review
5-stars for "The Girl in the Red Cape: A Mystical Sled Ride" by Suzy Davies, illustrated by Michele Bourke
Customer Review
Dan Santos
5.0 out of 5 stars Finally, the secrets of Little Red Riding Hood
Reviewed in the United States on July 12, 2020
From time to time the child in us revisits the fairy tales which have been there like forever. I don’t know about you, but I often wonder if a particular fairy tale holds meanings we missed as children. The temptation to reread it grows stronger when little details come to haunt us. Such is the case with Little Red Riding Hood.
It fascinated and even scared me the first time I heard it. A precocious (and frankly a little pain in the butt) kid, I began to ask questions. What illness did her grandmother have? Why didn’t an adult accompany her through the dangerous woods? What’s with the cape and the hood? Who was that girl anyway?
It seems I wasn’t alone in my search for answers to my troubling questions. Suzy Davies decided to tackle the revisit and answer many of the questions. As a parent, I could have predicted the first answer: the kid was a teenager. Sometimes that explains a lot of erratic behavior. But the author went further. She had a name: Stella. And she had an interesting story.
Suzy Davies built a modern day children's book around this traditional fairy tale. She has a tremendous imagination and knows how to tell a story. Moreover, she kept it within the realm of eight to ten year olds. So it is safe to share it with your little ones. And, oh yeah, it has illustrations!
So here’s your chance to begin answering all those questions. It’s a perfect early reader, or even a book to read to your kids at night. Do people still do that?
Customer Review
Dan Santos
5.0 out of 5 stars Finally, the secrets of Little Red Riding Hood
Reviewed in the United States on July 12, 2020
From time to time the child in us revisits the fairy tales which have been there like forever. I don’t know about you, but I often wonder if a particular fairy tale holds meanings we missed as children. The temptation to reread it grows stronger when little details come to haunt us. Such is the case with Little Red Riding Hood.
It fascinated and even scared me the first time I heard it. A precocious (and frankly a little pain in the butt) kid, I began to ask questions. What illness did her grandmother have? Why didn’t an adult accompany her through the dangerous woods? What’s with the cape and the hood? Who was that girl anyway?
It seems I wasn’t alone in my search for answers to my troubling questions. Suzy Davies decided to tackle the revisit and answer many of the questions. As a parent, I could have predicted the first answer: the kid was a teenager. Sometimes that explains a lot of erratic behavior. But the author went further. She had a name: Stella. And she had an interesting story.
Suzy Davies built a modern day children's book around this traditional fairy tale. She has a tremendous imagination and knows how to tell a story. Moreover, she kept it within the realm of eight to ten year olds. So it is safe to share it with your little ones. And, oh yeah, it has illustrations!
So here’s your chance to begin answering all those questions. It’s a perfect early reader, or even a book to read to your kids at night. Do people still do that?
Book News
"The Flamingos Who Painted The Sky," our new picture book is NOW fully available to bring in #Christmas #sunshine, #flamingo #sunsets, and #happiness #worldwide Illustrated by the talented Shirin Mass ...more
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