Every spring Rosalie, a Native American girl, and her grandfather sow tiny seeds that blossom into bright flowers. A red rosebush, planted under Rosalie’s bedroom window when she was born, is later joined by pink and yellow ones “to make a sunset,” Papa tells her. Rosalie asks for a blue bush, to represent the sky, but Papa explains that roses do not come in blue. When he dies the following winter, Rosalie’s blue rosebush comes to her in her dreams as a symbol of love, memory, and transcendence.
Until I was nine, I was a girl sandwiched between two brothers. At that time I believed that boys, especially brothers, had cooties (and yes, they believed the same of me). Consequently, I spent a lot of time alone in my room playing with my dolls or creating paper dolls and writing elaborate stories for them to act out. Alas, none of these stories have survived the ravages of time (probably a very good thing).
In fourth grade, I got my own library card and visited the Richards Memorial Library in my hometown of No. Attleboro, MA. every day after school. I always knew I would become a teacher of young children because of my love of reading and writing. It has been one of the joys of my life to have poured this love into the hearts and minds of my primary students and to help lead them to their own literacy. I taught from 1970 to 1997 when Fate stepped in and surprised me with a move to Maui, Hawaii (my husband's work "made" us live there for seven years...darn it!). I left teaching then to pursue my current career, writing and illustrating my stories.
