Bighorn River was an exhilarating place to spend our afternoon Illustrator Brian Merte, 13, for “Brotherhood” by Kevin Wang, 11. Published September/October 2007. A note from William Rubel The rainbow gracing the waterfall splashing into a lake rich with insects and fish in the illustration by Brian Merte is an idealized glimpse of the natural world. To help us believe in this dream vision Brian is careful to draw accurately many of the picture’s components–such as the acorns, dragonflies, and cattails. The drawing was commissioned by our then editor, Gerry Mandel, to go with the story, “Brotherhood,” published 12 years ago, in 2007. Once you have enjoyed the artwork I’d like you to pay attention to the magnificent language you will encounter in the story it illustrates, by Kevin Wang. In particular, I’d like you to notice how he brings a poetic expression to his prose. Here is an example: Crisp, dry auburn leaves were settling to the ground like fairies relishing their last ballet before reaching the forest floor. It is a beautiful simile–”like fairies relishing their last ballet before reaching the forest floor.” It brings the graceful, dancerly movement of falling laves to the mind’s eye. Strictly speaking, Kevin’s story is not about nature. While it takes place in a beautiful place, it is a story about friendship set in a place of natural beauty. Two boys talk by the side of the river. Nature plays its part, but it isn’t in the lead role. Today, I’d like to call your attention to the nonfiction nature writing that you will find in our blogs. Recently, we have published three pieces by Sierra Glassman, two nature videos and one essay on Martha, the last passenger pigeon. Sierra’s videos are well produced and super informative. One of them is about a recent trip to an area of Brazil that is rich in wildlife. The other is about hummingbirds. I hope at least some of you will be inspired by the videos to make a video of your own. Sierra’s essay on passenger pigeons is topical. We are currently at the beginning of what scientists are calling a “great extinction.” Large numbers of insects and animals are going extinct because of human activity. The story of Martha, the last passenger pigeon, has many lessons for us, today. You can find Sierra’s three blog posts here. Lukas Cooke is one of our most consistent bloggers. Thank you Lukas! Lukas often writes about nature. All of his writing is worth reading. His most recent post, Alien Serenity is about visiting Joshua Tree National Park in Southern California. Lukas’ post has inspired me to schedule a visit to this park with my daughter later in the year. William’s Weekend project For this weekend’s project I want you to do or make something about nature. Use one of the Stone Soup blog posts as a project example: describe a place you have visited, explain something about the natural world, talk about climate change, habitat loss, or something else that threatens nature, make a scientific drawing, or, like Sierra, a nature video. If a nonfiction work on nature doesn’t appeal to you then, like Kevin, the author of “Brotherhood,” use a well described natural place as the setting for a story. As always send us anything you are happy with. We always look forward to seeing your work. Until next week Stone Soup news! Audio recordings: If you didn’t check out our SoundCloud files last week, please go to website and listen to a few of the stories. If you like what you hear–Stone Soup authors reading their own stories and poetry–then please follow us. New material is posted regularly. This is mostly directed at the adults who read the Newsletter. We have started discussions with our web designer and programmer to redesign the website, to improve the look of it and to improve navigation. We trust them to help us get to the next level for something in the region of $5,000. We feel that the website is holding us back, and we are looking forward to bringing the same stellar look of our printed material to our web pages. If you have been thinking about donating to Stone Soup, and if making our website a better showcase for children’s creativity is a project that strikes a chord with you, then this is the time to help out. Thank you. To our adult readers and supporters… The philosopher Socrates tells us that “The secret to change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new.” Stone Soup exists to inspire, support, develop, and share the creative work of young people: the magazine, website, and books we produce are the Children’s Art Foundation’s contribution to “building the new.” Will you support us? One-off gifts and regular donations, on any scale, help us realize our aims. Find out more about what your gift will achieve by clicking the ‘Donate’ button. Highlights from the past week online As I mentioned in last week’s Newsletter, the way to support our book reviewers, bloggers and the Stone Soup project in general is to subscribe. Several of you did last week–thank you! This week, we have some great new work from our bloggers. Maya V writes about the joys of Sledding, while our nature blogger Lukas Cooke brings you Alien Serenity. From Stone Soup September/October 2007, and The Stone Soup Book of Friendship Stories (2018) Brotherhood By Kevin Wang, 11 Illustrated by Brian Merte, 13 It was a warm, brisk Saturday afternoon, and Jack and I couldn’t wait to get to the river. Crisp, dry auburn leaves were settling to the ground like fairies relishing their last ballet before reaching the forest floor. We knew they would soon be buried under mounds of snow, obscuring the path to the forest. The wind snapped at our faces as we sprinted over rolling hills that made their way into the lush forest. We ran along the path, kicking aside piles of leaves which had formed a quilt of a million pieces for us. Jack suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, and I stumbled, falling onto the path. “What is it, buddy?” I asked him, as I picked
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Sledding
It was Friday evening. The snow was supposed to start and keep going till the next evening. Sledding. It was the only thing on my mind. The snow made my mom worry about getting stuck while driving. At school, the snow made everyone discuss the sporting events that would be cancelled. But I was only thinking about sledding. Yet, by the time I went to bed, the snow hadn’t started. I was worried. What if the forecast changed? What if the snow I’d looked forward to so much never came? When I woke up in the morning, the first thing I did was look outside. I sighed a sigh of relief when I saw that the world was blanketed in gleaming white snow. The lake was frozen and lined by evergreen trees, coated in white. Looking at it made me happy. There is something so magical about snow. I love it. Sadly, we don’t get much snow. Just three or four times a winter. And six inches like today was even more of a rare treat. I was euphoric about my plans to go sledding with two friends and their siblings at a park that is a short walk from our house. As soon as we got there, we ran up the hill and got in our sleds. We made a train by grabbing the rope of the sled in front of us and sliding down at the same time. Half way down the hill, my friend’s sled turned one way and mine turned the other way and they were pulling in different directions. The next thing we knew, our sleds were tangled and we all fell into the snow laughing. Later we experimented with different ways to sled. We sat backwards in the sled. We lay in the sled on our stomachs. We stood up in the sled, using it like a snowboard. I tried to hold on but I kept falling into the snow. I loved the feeling of the soft white snow underneath me, my friends beside me, the view of the evergreen trees surrounding me, the cold air. Perfection. The next day, our parents agreed to take us sledding again. Suddenly, my friend called and said she wanted to try a different place that has a bigger, steeper, hill. “Oh, no,” I thought at first. I was a little bit scared of the big hill but I had no choice. Anyway, how scary could it be? I was excited anyway, sledding is sledding, and I hurried to get ready. When we got there, it was very crowded. The snow was packed so much, it was almost like ice. As I climbed the hill, I felt the ice slipping under my feet. I tried my best to hold on, looking for parts of the snow that were still soft. My friend and I got in our sleds at the top of the hill and started slipping down before we were fully ready. The world zoomed by as we raced down the hill. We weren’t far down the hill when I felt a bump under my sled. I went flying into the air. It was terrifying but also fun and exciting all at the same time. My friend had told me in the beginning that on one side of the hill there were bumps so that you flew in the air. We intended to choose the non bumpy side, but in our rush to start sledding we hadn’t noticed the bumps. I tried doing some of the things I usually do like going on my belly. It was terrifying. I screamed the whole time but at the same time I enjoyed it. Afterwards, my friend said she had enjoyed the scarier hill more. I also enjoyed the thrill of excitement. But going on a scary hill is kind of like eating something spicy. When you put spicy pepper on something, all you are tasting is the spiciness. I would rather just enjoy the small hill and end up laughing in the snow. Of course, in the end, when it comes to convincing our parents to take us sledding, we are all happy with any hill, just as long as we get to go!
Alien Serenity
A gust of wind blew, but not a thing seemed to stir. How odd, I thought to myself, shivering as the gale sent spikes of cold into the depths of my body. As if to spite the fact that I wore three sweaters, every swirling movement of the air seemed determined to make me freeze. But where I was made all the discomfort go away. I have traveled to many places, from the towering beauty of the German Alps to the vibrant colors that make up the reefs of Fiji. However, I have found that there is something unique to every place I go, something that makes every trip worthwhile. Often when I think about it, I find the varieties of the Earth we live on stunning. And that is more fact than opinion. The desert was not new to me; I take trips with my family to the high desert of Nevada twice a year. Each year we have a great time, and I have learned that, if you look hard enough, the desert is not such a bland place after all. But the desert I found myself in now was different. Every part of it seemed to scream, “I am not dull in the slightest! And if I have to show that to you by sprouting the weirdest trees you have ever seen, I will!” Yes, I was in Joshua Tree National Park. I had an odd sensation, my brain knowing that I was on Earth, but all of my senses saying I wasn’t, that I was on Mars, with giant rock formations jutting out of the landscape all around me to accompany the trees from another world. The deathly stillness didn’t help my perplexity either. And yet, it was wondrous. It didn’t matter that the none of it seemed to make sense, it just was. There were so many different hues of yellow, green, and brown, all intermingling to form an extraterrestrial landscape. Stacked boulders told tales of the earliest days of existence, the trees a constant chorus of agreement. We spent the day driving to different trailheads in the park, hiking a little ways up them, and climbing boulders until our hands were raw. We walked through valleys, canyons, and washed our dusty faces in a crystal clear pond that sat in a small oasis. It was an experience I will never forget. As the sun began to disappear behind the horizon, I climbed one last boulder, the largest one I could find. Once at the top, I sat down and closed my eyes. The wind whirled around me, blowing my hair over my eyelids, but at that moment, it couldn’t make me cold. I was immersed in the full glory of the Earth, and the only sense I had was one of deep understanding and peace. A feeling of serenity. Later that evening we were sitting by the fireside of the cabin we were staying in. I looked outside the window and found myself gazing upon an endless expanse of stars. Among them was Orion, the full constellation. I thought back on the calm I had felt as I sat on top of the rock, and I thought to myself, How odd. There is something in nature that can only be accessed through a search, a search in which one must ignore the stress of the world and delve deeper into the connection between man and Mother Nature. It is a feeling of peace, of calm, of understanding. It is a feeling of serenity.
