Audio Storytime

Hello friends! It's Miss Cathy from the Mary L. Cook Library. Won't you join me for a story? I'll read and you can use your imagination to see the pictures. Let's get started. Outside, You Notice by Erin Alladin, illustrated by Andrea Blinick.

Outside you notice things. How after the rain, everything smells greener. How lots of little noises, birds singing, bees buzzing, squirrels running, make up one big quiet.

How a strawberry tastes sweetest when you pick it yourself and eat it still warm from the sun. How digging the earth until it's up to your elbows and even behind your ears makes you feel more proud than dirty . . . Though you still need a bath.

You notice that a dandelion is just as golden as a marigold. That seeds cupped in your hand feel like the tiniest and most important things in the world. You notice that the sound of water tumbling over itself soothes and stills your own tumbling mind.

You notice, if you're nosy, that there's a lot more going on under your feet than around them. You notice that maple leaves are strong and cast sharp shadows, but aspen leaves tremble so that bits of sunlight dance in their shade.

That you never really knew the color orange, not really, until you saw a carrot still spotted with black earth. That if you're very patient and very still, the hummingbirds and bees will buzz around you like you're one more big, happy flower.

Outside you notice the breath in your body, your feet on the ground, yourself in the world. And then you can bloom.
 

Hello friends. It's Miss Cathy from the Mary L. Cook Library. Won't you join me for a story? I'll read and you can use your imagination to see the pictures. Let's get started. Fraser the Forest Ranger written by Matthew Schufman. 

Fraser loved the forest. He watched over it from his cabin on top of Pine Peak. Each morning, he would walk down from his hill and check on the trees and animals. Each night, he would walk back up, make a large stack of pancakes for dinner, and rest by the fire. Although Fraser loved being a ranger, he did everything alone.

He played games alone, paddled alone, danced alone. He even celebrated his birthday alone. Being alone all the time was okay, but Fraser thought it might be nice to meet someone new. So the next morning, Fraser set out to see if he could find a friend.

After walking for some time, Fraser came upon a large lake. Crowds of people were lying on the beach. People were playing volleyball. Boats bobbed on the water. The hot sun beat down on Fraser. “I miss the cool shade of the trees. This isn't the place for me,” he thought.

Fraser kept walking and found a busy zoo. People bustled around with hot dogs and balloons. Although the people were smiling, Fraser couldn't help but notice that all the animals looked sad. “I miss my animal friends,” thought Fraser. He decided to keep searching.

Fraser walked for miles and miles and eventually came upon a large city. “I must be very far from home. There are a lot of people in cities. I'm sure I'll be able to find a friend here.” Fraser stood on a very busy street for hours and greeted everyone who passed by.

Some people brushed past him. Some listened to music. Some talked on phones. No one stopped to talk. Fraser sat on a city bench defeated. The lights in the buildings were so bright he couldn't see any stars as he could back home. “I miss the trees and stars,” thought Frasier.

“It's time for me to go back home to the forest where I belong.” By the time Fraser reached the forest, it was very late. The trails were dark and hard to see. Finally, he climbed the hill to his cabin. Fraser opened the door and gasped! There was a stranger in his cabin.

“I'm Fraser. What are you doing in my cabin?” He asked. 

“I'm Hazel. What are you doing in my cabin?” She replied. “This is the Maple Ridge Ranger Station. Are you sure you're in the right place?” She asked. 

“I'm so sorry to bother you,” said Fraser as he left the cabin. “I must have taken a wrong turn in the dark. I'll be on my way.”

“Wait,” said Hazel. “Why don't you stay for dinner? I just made pancakes.” 

The two friends stayed up late eating pancakes and sharing stories about the forest. Fraser loved the forest. His favorite part was having a friend close by.
 

Hello friends! It's Miss Cathy from the Mary L. Cook Library. Won't you join me for a story? I'll read and you can use your imagination to see the pictures. Let's get started. The House of Grass and Sky written by Mary Lyn Ray, illustrated by E. B. Goodale.

Once out in the country, someone knew right where to build a house. Inside it smelled of sunshine and new lumber. Outside smelled of meadow grass and sky. The house had a tree with a swing, a garden with roses and a family. It was happy.

As years went by, other families came and went. The house learned about babies being born and babies growing up. It learned about bedtime stories and birthday parties. And if it had to learn goodbye, it also learned hello. Because a new family always came until one didn't. Then everything felt different. 

The house especially missed the children busy with their games and secrets. Except sometimes it remembered the children just sat very still to think the way the house was thinking. It knew a family would come.

And one did. But they said, “Who could live in such a small house? We'd have to add on.” The house didn't want to be added on to, but that family didn't stay. So the house waited as summer's leaves turned orange and red, then fluttered to the ground like bright flocks of birds while it imagined children running and twirling among them. 

Soon, cold winter followed. But in the snow and shiver, when everywhere was white, the house remembered roses. And when spring woke, the roses woke too. All outdoors smelled pink.

The house welcomed back the green time and every green smell too. Though some days it also wished for the kitchen smells that it remembered, especially the smell of a birthday cake baking. So, when another family came looking, the house hoped as hard as it could hope for what used to be. But that family said, “It is too quiet,” and went back to the city. 

The house liked the country quiet. It could hear the smallest sounds of rabbits whispering and buds unfolding, but it missed the noises children make. And most of all, it missed the children.

Now when days turn to dusk, the house is dark. There is no lamplight at its windows. But the moon still visits often. The house knows the moon. The moon knows the house. They are old friends. Yet, the house can't help remembering when children stood in the rugs of moonlight and looked out at the night and it wishes. 

Then one more family comes. The house tries not to hope, but something makes it hold its breath. There are children and they're saying, “This one, this one, please, can we live here, please?” No one answers no or yes. But the house is sure it hears the mother say, “It almost feels we were expected.” 

In the meadow, dandelions wait to be wished on. And the family seems to know. They each bend down to pick a stem. Are they wishing what the house is wishing? It is certain they are its family until they go away. 

That night, the stars and the moon are small comfort, and it is the same the next night and the next. Then the house barely dares to believe what it sees. The family is back. They are back to stay. 

They fix what needs fixing and paint what needs painting, but they don't talk of changing things or adding on to. They look out the windows at what the house has looked at. They listen to what it's listened to for so many years. They take time to notice and to wonder. They find the swing in the tree. They want to know what the house can tell them about long ago and used to be, but that's not all. For now, the family and the house wake every morning to what a new day brings, for making new memories together.
 

Hello friends! It's Miss Cathy from the Mary L. Cook Library. Won't you join me for a story? I'll read and you can use your imagination to see the pictures. Let's get started. Herbie's Big Adventure, written by Jennie Poh. 

Herbie was born in the late summer just as the first autumn leaves were beginning to flutter down in the forest. “Mommy,” Herbie exclaimed when he opened his eyes. “Hello, Herbie,” his mother said gently. Herbie snuggled into her arms. It felt just right. 

Soon, Herbie began to play games. He burrowed in a secret cave and tumbled in a tickly jungle and went roly poly down a steep mountain. “Whee!” Herbie was growing very fast. Day by day, the little hedgehog was becoming a big hedgehog. 

One day his mother shared some exciting news. “Herbie,” she said, “you're nearly ready for your first foraging adventure.” 

“Foraging?” Herbie asked. 

“To go exploring and find good things to eat," she explained. 

Herbie was surprised. “But mommy, I'm not ready. I'm just a little hedgehog.”

“Herbie, you are ready. You can burrow and tumble and sniff. You will go out and explore and come back to me when your adventure is done.”

Soon enough, the big day arrived. “Good luck. Have fun,” his mother called out. 

Herbie shivered and took a brave step into the world. Before he knew it, he was swept up by a whirling westerly wind. Whoosh! Herbie twisted and twirled and landed in a crisp pile of leaves. Crunch! He quickly began rummaging for things to eat. What was I so worried about? He wondered. Foraging is fun. Herbie nibbled on an apple core and felt that everything was just right. 

Just as Herbie was about to dig a little deeper, another swift wind blew into the forest. Herbie held tightly to a little brown leaf. The wind carried Herbie and his little brown leaf in a new direction. Herbie closed his eyes as the air swirled him round and round. Herbie landed with a puff.

He burrowed upward and opened his eyes. Everything twinkled and glistened. Herbie was chilly and damp. He looked at the little leaf that had carried him so far. An idea began to form. Ta-da! Herbie's little leaf became a hat. 

Herbie climbed his way to the very top of the world. He was getting sleepy and wanted to snuggle down for a nap. But where? He tried nestling with a prickly relative and squeezing into the pocket of a troll and burrowing under an owl's wing. But as hard as he tried, Herbie couldn't find anywhere to sleep that was as cozy as his mother's arms. 

Then, Herbie saw a mysterious shape. As he crept closer and closer, the shape got bigger and bigger until Herbie found himself standing in the shadow of a great mother snow bear. 

“I am Herbie,” the hedgehog said bravely. “I have been foraging all day and now I am looking for a place to rest. I am cold and sleepy.”

A small breeze blew and Herbie saw the great bear nod and open her arms. Herbie scurried into them. The kind snow bear held the little hedgehog warmly. It felt just right. And Herbie fell asleep. Herbie slept soundly all night. In the morning, he felt better.

“Thank you, snow bear,” Herbie said, and tumbled out of her arms. 

At that moment, an enormous easterly wind whistled all around him. Whoosh! The wind blew him all the way back home. “I just knew you would be home today, Herbie,” his mother said.

“You were right, Mommy," said Herbie. “I was ready for a big adventure, but now being home with you feels just right.”
 

Hello friends. It's Ms. Cathy from the Mary L. Cook Library. Won't you join me for a story? I'll read and you can use your imagination to see the pictures. Let's get started. In a Garden written by Tim McCanna, illustrated by Aimée Sicuro. 

In a garden, on a hill, sparrows chirp and crickets trill. In the earth, a single seed sits beside a millipede. Worms and termites dig and toil, moving through the garden soil. 

Then at last, a tiny shoot, ever slowly forms a root. First a seedling, then a sprout, pushing, bursting up and out. In a garden, day by day, newborn flowers find their way. Sunlight warms the morning air. Dew drops shimmer here and there.

Earwigs scuttle, beetles scurry, roly polies scoot and worry. Sleepy slugs and garden snails leave behind their silver trails. Frantic teams of busy ants scramble up the stems of plants. 

In a garden,week by week, little creatures hunt and squeak. All the while, a sprout is growing without anybody knowing. Buds emerge and leaves unfold, braving wind and heat and cold. Stretching, spreading, open wide, just the perfect place to hide. Underneath it's safe and snug for a lonely ladybug. 

In a garden, showers fall. Dainty drinks for one and all. Flower petals, bold and bright, blossom in the beaming light. Blooms of every shape and size call to bees and butterflies. Daisy, foxglove, tulip, plum, daffodil, chrysanthemum. 

Sips of nectar, warm and sweet. Pollen clings to hands and feet. Round and round they buzz and flit. Only pause to rest a bit.
In a garden, bugs aglow. Flashing, flying to and fro. Lacewings, gnats, mosquitoes, spiders, dragonflies,and water striders live among the cattail reeds, lily pads and water weeds. Keeping hid from hungry eyes, using colors to disguise. Crafty bugs with clever tricks look like leaves or bark or sticks.

In a garden, full of green, many moments go unseen. Finding shelter in the shade, careful rows of eggs are laid as a cool and gentle breeze whispers through the tops of trees. Then a seed slips to the ground, sinking in without a sound. Time goes by and by and then life returns to start again. 

Always changing, never still, in a garden, on a hill.

Hello friends. It's Miss Cathy from the Mary L. Cook Library. Won't you join me for a story? I'll read and you can use your imagination to see the pictures. Let's get started. There Was an Old Dragon Who Swallowed a Knight written by Penny Parker Klostermann, illustrated by Ben Mantle. 

There was an old dragon who swallowed a knight. I don't know why he swallowed the knight. It's not polite. 

There was an old dragon who swallowed a steed that galloped around at a terrible speed. Oh, how the dragon wished it would stop. That clippity clippity clippity clop. He swallowed the steed right after the knight. I don't know why he swallowed the knight. It's not polite. 

There was an old dragon who swallowed a squire, who hollered, that's hot! When the dragon breathed fire. He swallowed the squire to calm the steed that galloped around at a terrible speed. He swallowed the steed right after the knight. I don't know why he swallowed the knight. It's not polite. 

There was an old dragon who swallowed a cook, a savory cook and his recipe book. He swallowed the cook to fatten the squire. He swallowed the squire to calm the steed that galloped around at a terrible speed. He swallowed the steed right after the night. I don't know why he swallowed the knight. It's not polite. 

There was an old dragon who swallowed a lady. It seems quite shady. He'd swallow a lady. He swallowed the lady to rule the cook. He swallowed the cook to fatten the squire. He swallowed the squire to calm the steed that galloped around at a terrible speed. He swallowed the steed right after the knight. I don't know why he swallowed the knight. It's not polite. 

There was an old dragon who swallowed a castle, swallowed it down to the last golden tassel. He swallowed the castle to hold the lady. He swallowed the lady to rule the cook. He swallowed the cook to fatten the squire. He swallowed the squire to calm the steed that galloped around at a terrible speed. He swallowed the steed right after the night. I don't know why he swallowed the knight. It's not polite. 

There was an old dragon who swallowed a moat, guzzled and gulped it right down his throat. With all of that water, he started to bloat. And that's when the dragon roared and I quote, “Okay, enough. I've had enough. More than enough of swallowing stuff.” Maybe I've been a tad impolite. Perchance, I should only have swallowed the knight. 

So, he burped out the moat that had caused him to bloat. He burped out the castle, along with the tassel. He burped out the lady, who found that quite shady. He burped out the cook, and his recipe book. He burped out the squire, now blackened with fire. Then, with all of the power that he could amass, the dragon burped out one last billow of gas. And with terrible speed, he burped out the steed. Clippity, clippity, clippity, clop. Clippity, clippity, clippity, stop.

There was an old dragon who swallowed a knight. Ah, just right. Good night.

Hello friends, it's Miss Cathy from the Mary L. Cook Library. Won't you join me for a story? I'll read and you can use your imagination to see the pictures. Let's get started. Everywhere Wonder Written by Matthew Swanson Illustrated by Robbi Behr.

I have a story to share. It is a little gift from me to you. You might not know it, but you have a story too. You'll find it in the things you stop to notice. The world is full of people and places and things, all of them interesting, all of them beautiful. 

You never know what you might see or where your mind will take you, so keep your eyes wide open as you go. In Egypt, there are pyramids. In Arizona, there are canyons. In the jungles of Brazil are leaves so plentiful and green that light can barely reach the ground below. 

In the high hills of Japan are gardens full of wind-worn rocks and clean white sand, but not a single flower. In Kenya, there are hot, dry savannas filled with zebras and blue wildebeest. In Alaska, there are cold, wet waters filled with seals and sockeye salmon. 

In the middle of the Coral Sea, there is a roaring storm that no one will ever hear. On the near side of the moon, there is a quiet footprint that no rains will ever wash away. In Sheboygan, there is a tractor mechanic named Shirley who has 37 friends. 

On the North Pole, there is a cold and lonesome bear. Wishing for some company. You want to go see him, of course. To let him know he's not alone. But your bike won't get you there and back by bedtime. 

Still, you noticed him, didn't you? He walked off this page and into your head. Now he is part of your story. There are other wonders yet to find. Not so far from where you are right now. They too are interesting. 

They too are beautiful. Stop to really look and you will see them. In the highest part of the tree is an unexpected gift. A blue balloon that must have slipped from someone's fingers. In the deepest part of the pool is sunken treasure. 

A shiny dime that must have tumbled from someone's pocket. Will you save it or spend it or leave it there for someone else to find? In the grocery are aisles and shelves and stacks of cans. You have to look so carefully to find the one you want.

In your bowl of steaming soup is just one noodle that doesn't match the others. Where do you think it came from? On the playground is a sturdy line of bright black ants carrying their supper home. Under the bridge is a gently rolling river floating a blue glass bottle out to sea. 

Perhaps it holds a message. What does it say? Who could it be for? In the busy town are sidewalks full of swiftly moving people who somehow never seem to collide. In the quiet countryside are miles of open, empty roads that somehow never seem to end. 

Where do they go? Someday you may find out. In the hallway is a spotted dog that turns golden as the sun sets through the window. In the bedroom is a doorknob that makes rainbows when the reading lamp clicks on. 

Now the lamp is off and the moon is up. You close your eyes and see them again, the things you noticed today. All of these together are your story. Dream with them a while. When you wake up in the morning, open your eyes and open your window and let your story out into the world. It is a little gift from you to me. Now my story is complete, but yours is just beginning. 

 

Hello friends, it's Miss Cathy from the Mary L. Cook Library. Won't you join me for a story? I'll read and you can use your imagination to see the pictures. Let's get started. The Littlest Family's Big Day. Written and illustrated by Emily Winfield Martin. 

One morning, very early, a little family came to the woods. They found a place just big enough for all their little things. Then they set out on a wander to see what they would find. Were they alone? They were not. Not at all. They said, “Hello.” “Hello, hello.” And finally, “Goodbye.” Goodbye. As they continued on their wander, they felt a wisp of breeze. The little family chased the breeze until they found the wind. 

Beyond the wind, they came upon a river, deep and wild. And soon the family found a way to wander on the water. Up along the riverbank, they found a place to rest. But, oh no, they couldn't rest for long. 

Because they had to run. They ran and ran and the rain pelted down until they found somewhere warm and dry. When the rain stopped, the little family found that they were lost. But when you are lost, it is the best time to be found. 

When their wander was done, after hello and goodbye, and the breeze and the wind, and the river and the wild, and the rain and the warm, and after lost, they found they were home. Goodnight, Little Wanderers!

Hello friends, it's Miss Cathy from the Mary L. Cook Library. Won't you join me for a story? I'll read and you can use your imagination to see the pictures. Let's get started.

Nothing to Do by Douglas Wood, illustrated by Wendy Anderson Halperin.

Once in a while, along comes a day when there is nothing, absolutely, positively nothing to do. And isn't that great? No school, no homework, no little league, no dance class, no play rehearsal, no soccer practice, no computer camp, no anything. Just a white empty space on the calendar. Of course, some people get a little worried about these spaces. These people are very nice and wear big shoes, but we'll think about them a little later.

But what do you do when there's nothing to do? Well, I have heard stories, wonderful stories, about taking off your shoes and walking through green grass or mud in your bare feet. Or making toy ships out of sticks and sailing them across a puddle that somehow seems as wide as an ocean. I've heard about lying on your back and watching clouds turn from dinosaurs into crocodiles, into dragons, into bears, into butterflies, into clouds. 

Or lying on your stomach watching an ant carry something three times bigger than he is. While you wonder, how can he do that? And what do ants eat for breakfast that makes them so strong? I've heard of making a paper airplane do loop-de-loops and barrel rolls in the soft summer air. Then land smooth as butter on bread. Or building a fort, a secret place where no one can see you because you can't see them. And surviving for hours on peanut butter sandwiches and lemonade.

I've heard about catching fireflies on a warm evening and putting them in a jar until you have two hands full of gold and then letting them all go. I've heard of swinging until your toes touch the clouds or hanging by your knees like a monkey just to find out how monkeys feel. I've heard of climbing a good tree that's been waiting all its long life just to be climbed by you or finding a quiet spot and reading your very favorite book and then reading it again just because it is your favorite.

I've heard stories about exploring places that really need to be explored. About making angels in the snow or igloos or caves or sledding or tasting icicles or throwing snowballs or building round fat men with orange noses and old hats who smile at everyone. Why I've heard of swimming and building sand castles and hopscotching and jump roping and running and throwing and bouncing and painting and drawing and playing with toys and puzzles and dolls and games and puppies and kittens and hamsters and gerbils and doing cartwheels and doing somersaults and doing well sometimes just doing nothing. And maybe one of the best ways to do nothing is to show someone else how to do it maybe even someone with big shoes just to remind them that sometimes doing nothing is the most important thing in the whole wide world to do.