Day 214: Long Night Moon

Cynthia Rylant has long been one of my favorite children's authors.  Her work never ceases to amaze me, mostly because it always feels so personal in a way I have trouble describing.  So touching.  So real.  I routinely look for her books when we are at our various local libraries, and was thrilled to bring this one home the other week.  I had never seen this book before, but was instantly drawn to its cover illustration.  As I opened it up and read the description on the jacket cover, I just knew I would love it.

Have you ever stopped to consider what might be revealed in one spot over one year by twelve unique and exquisite full moons?

My kids and I love observing the moon, especially on clear, summer nights.  As the moon followed us home from New Hampshire last week, my son barraged us with questions.  Why can we sometimes see the moon and sometimes we can't?  Why do we sometimes see just part of the moon and other times we can see all of it?  If the moon is made of rock, why does it glow?  There's a lot to be learned about the magical moon, and I love the way this book encourages children to enjoy and appreciate the light of night in a new and different way.

Long Night Moon is the type of book that I love a little more each time I read it.  At first glance, I was captivated by the artwork.  If you've ever tried to paint or draw moonlight, you know how difficult it is.  Mark Siegel's illustrations capture the feel and presence of moonlight magnificently.

A second reading found us exploring the meaning behind the names of the moons each month.  As Rylant explains at the outset, "Native Americans gave names to the full moons they watched throughout the year.  Each month had a moon.  And each moon had its name..." While the monthly names in this story aren't all the same as others that I've researched, I love the way each one captures the essence of the season and gets us thinking about the changes in nature at the time.  "In March a Sap Moon rises over melting ponds, sleepy bears, small green trees.  It tells a promise and a hope... In July the Thunder Moon trembles, shudders, and disappears in a thick black sky.  It listens to the clouds beat their drums."  The book is more poetry than story, but combined with Siegel's artwork, it tells a beautiful story.  Its pace is calming and slow, making it especially lovely to read at bedtime, but it's well worth a read at any time of day.

Be sure to read the note from the illustrator at the end of the book, too.  In it, Siegel describes how he took many long, moonlit walks to help inspire his art and find the perfect medium for this book. "In my busy, crowded life, I'd never given so much attention to moonlight:  What is it like?  How does it feel? What makes it so special?"  He also explains how Rylant "captured not just one, but many moods of night" throughout the book, and that these "distinct atmospheres seemed best explored in one continuous 360-degree panorama over the course of a year."  This artistic technique can only really be noticed if you slow down and pause before turning the page, allowing time to soak in the whole scene before moving on.  Reading this background made the book all the more impressive for me.  I'll include my favorite part below, for it paints a far better picture of the wonder of this story than I ever could.

"I realize now how tempting it is to think that nature closes up shop after sunset, but this isn't so.  When the sun goes down, nature doesn't disappear.  She shows us another face, one that is just as complex and astonishing as the face she wears during the day.  When we are young children, night sometimes has a forbidding, or even forbidden quality -- it is, after all, time for bed.  But its attraction is no less powerful.  May the words and images of Long Night Moon offer a safe invitation to savor the night and celebrate its otherwise hidden wonders." ~M.S.

Day 142: Stars

I have always been fascinated by the night sky.  There is something so magical about gazing up at those little lights twinkling in the darkness.  When I look at the stars, I feel an overwhelming sense of wonder.  Beauty.  Serenity.  Timelessness.  How incredible to gaze upon the same stars that piqued the curiosity of Galileo and Aristotle, knowing they have been in the skies longer than life has existed on Earth?  Like finding shapes in the clouds, I love looking for constellations in the sky, too.  Just the other night, my son and I went on a night walk to see Venus and Jupiter, which were particularly brilliant with the new moon.  Orion was front and center in our sky, too, so we stood out in the cold as long as we could bear, pointing to the stars that make up his belt, telling the myth of the great hunter, and looking for other shapes and figures in the sky.  My son found his own snail constellation.  It was wonderful.

A good friend of mine recently recommended this book to me, and I was thrilled to find it at the library this past week.  I loved it from the moment I read it.  (Add another book to my ever-growing home library wish list!)  The book starts off talking about stars as we most commonly think of them -- celestial bodies glowing high above us in the night sky -- but then proceeds to feature different, yet perhaps equally powerful, types of stars. "A star is how you know it's almost night.  As soon as you see one, there's another, and another.  And the dark that comes doesn't feel so dark."  But what about the type of star you can cut out of shiny paper and keep in your pocket?  Or pin on your shirt as a sheriff badge?  Or place on a wand?  Or give to a friend?  Those kinds of stars can be magical, too.  "Some days you feel shiny as a star.  If you've done something important, people may call you a star.  But some days you don't feel shiny.  Those days, it's good to reach for the one in your pocket." Perhaps my favorite stars author Mary Lyn Ray mentions are those we can find in nature: "White stars in June grass become strawberries in July.  Yellow stars on pumpkin vines become October pumpkins." I love the gentle way in which this beautiful story encourages children to think about the many meanings and uses of stars, even their own inner star,  and Marla Frazee's illustrations are absolutely gorgeous.  I can't even describe how much I love the cover illustration, or the one of the dandelion being blown into a thousand stars in the sky, or of many families cuddled together on blankets stargazing on a stone wall at night.  I'm imagining all kinds of fun crafts and activities one could do with this book, too.  It was published in 2011, so you might find it, as I did, on your library's shelf of new books.  If you've never bundled up to go outside in your pajamas and look at the night sky with your own little star, I highly recommend it.  Then go get cozy and snuggle up together to read this great book.