Our family is full of readers, not just casual readers, readers that are so consumed by their books they often forget to eat, where they are, or hear the call of their name. They have been left in classrooms, only to look up and see the class gone at recess. They survive while walking down busy streets with their heads in books. They read books over and over, so many times, they lose count. I admire this gift because, although I love to read, I am quite aware when a room empties, the phones rings, or my name is called.
I start to think, what is it about a story that pulls us in and calls out to us to be read again and again and again? Children transform us into re-readers, from early board books to large chapter books, we read, again and again, the familiar comforting stories. A few years ago, I read Seedfolk, by Sid Fleischman, on a rainy winter day, snuggled by the fireplace, surrounded by my seed catalogs. Every winter since then, when the seed catalogs start coming in the mail, I reach to my bookshelf, take down my copy, and set it on top the stack of catalogs by my fireplace, waiting for a rainy winter afternoon to plan gardens and hear stories of characters transformed by a community garden.
Each season, I have books I read, again and again, each time they pull me in closer, wrapping their pages around my soul and comforting me with their familiar words. I look forward to sharing these books with you, the ones that call me back when the seasons change. I also look forward to hearing about the books that call out to you, the ones that excite you to stay at home and snuggle up or find a restful spot outside, under a tree, and travel to distant lands.