Papa says, “Good night. Sleep tight”.

“But what about a piece of the dream pie?” we all beg.

“All right, you’re right” papa nods his head.

“What piece of the dream pie will you try tonight?

How’d you like some blueberry pie? Good for dreaming up blue water, blue skies and soft breezy days.

Wild strawberry pie? Then you’d get a taste of July with parades and red flower fireworks.

Perfect peach pie? Now that’s a fine juicy story to slurp up and swallow down. You’ll smack your lips.

Appple pie? There’s a crisp autumn feeling with a snap like a barnyard dance or a country fair ride.

Chocolate cream pie? How lazy and smooth that vision is – slowly melting like snowflakes in cocoa.

Sour cherry pie? Pucker up for some zing, twang, and crazy three-ring circus shows. See the clowns?

Ahhh,pumpkin pie? Now we’re talkin’ monsters, ghosts, and a scary tale ending in jack-o-lantern’s grin.

Coconut cream pie? That’ll tickle your funny bone, split your ribs and bubble up belly laughs.

What about keylime pie? It holds the keys to secret door adventures and island pirate treasures.

Lemon pie? To remind you of lemonade stands, lemon drops, and summer sunny play days.

Or banana cream pie? Watch out for jungle critters – monkeys everywhere tangled up in leafy vines and copycat mimes.

There’s blackberry, gooseberry, raspberry pies for joking, tumbling, teasing and chasing around.

And there’s chicken pot pie for scratchin’, flappin’, cluckin’, hopping up and down – chicken dancin’.

I’m not sure if that one counts but you can take a bite out of it if you wanna.

Rubbarb pie? It makes you feel like you’re walking on stilts, taller than tall, with your head in the clouds.

And pecan pie? Why you are riding a bucking bronco in a western rodeo. Hold on – don’t let go!

Mud pie? That’s for followin’ your feet wherever they go just to get there and come back again.

But you know – you can hardly do better than peanut butter pie. It’s the one that sticks with you.

Even when you wake up in the morning you’ll remember that piece of peanut butter pie – finger lickin’ good.

So what’ll it be? Hey, which piece of pie do you want tonight?

Ahhhhhhhh that’s okay. I’ll just turn out the light.”

Grandpa “D” loved to watch his granddaughters stalk evasive fireflies, as they darted into the shadows backlit by purple hues on the fade side of day. His mind raced back to an earlier time, when these little ones were just hopes for the future hidden away in the hearts of young parents.

It had been twenty years earlier when the father of these young girls was, himself, a fourth grade graduate, hoping against all hope that summer would last, well, almost forever. Michael and his younger brother, Mark, would leap from the porch at twilight time and chase the endless supply of fireflies that arose from the grass like dew in reverse or sparkling mist. The fireflies won almost every contest as they enticed the boys with their wondrous lamps, hovering and anticipating just the right moment when a little arm, jar in hand, would reach heavenward. Then these tiny creatures could capriciously dart even further away with a newfound speed that sent the boys into waves of giggles and outright laughter.

Their father, “D,” reminded his sons that his very own Grandfather had called fireflies “lightening bugs,” because they flickered unpredictably – just like summer lightening. “D’s” Grandfather, Lorenzo, had come from the “old country” and had adopted a lot of old, but new to him, sayings from his adopted West Virginia, like calling skunks “pole cats,” probably due to the pole like strip of white which scurried down each critter’s back. “D’s” youngest son, Joe, kept alive his great-grandfather’s tradition of creative descriptions. Little Joe called the fireflies “corn bugs,” because it appeared that someone had drilled a kernel of corn into the bug’s backside.

As “D” watched his sons chase the bugs, he thought to himself that life would never be better than at this moment. In only one sense was this true, because the parenting time was so fleeting. Not nearly enough bedtime stories were read or relished as these boys grew, and “D” always regretted the opportunities lost…

But in another sense, life was full of fruitful parent promises that could be peeled at harvest moments. This was as it had always had been.

Chasing “lightening bugs” had always been a “right of passage” through childhood from generation to generation of giggling children in “D’s” family, and now twenty years later, an older and wiser Grandpa “D” was watching his son’s daughters chase the elusive fireflies of July. Grandpa “D” relished this moment as he had only once before, and he thought once again that life would never be better than at this moment.

Over the course of the next months, a Grandpa who more deeply appreciated his children and his children’s children gathered up old storybooks and passed them along like the greatest treasure one could possibly receive. Like the “lightening bugs” from his own youth, a much wiser Grandpa knew that a love for the “little lights of summer” and cherishing that which is most important was being passed to an emerging generation of future matriarchs and eager chasers of the elusive future fireflies…

Okay your mom told me to tell you a good night story. I am not used to telling stories to little girls.

Do you like to hear about bunnies, mice or bears, Winnie the Pooh or Bugs Bunny?

I guess you might like Ballerinas and princesses, to hear all about tutus and tiaras, happy dancers or special little girls just like you two.

Maybe you would like to hear about a very lucky family who has two of the cutest, smartest and funniest little girls a family can ever have.

Yes you two are the greatest and we love you very much. Have sweet dreams of dancing and singing all of your favorite songs …God bless you and keep you through the night.

The warm sunny days of spring had come to the Australian river bank. The river was slow and smooth as it meandered like a snake towards the woodland forest. If you listened carefully, you could hear the water gently lapping against the rocks and the lighthearted, peaceful sound of birds chirping.

Hidden in the long tall grass of the marshy bank was a solitary nest. Leaves, sticks, and weeds were piled into a tall mound. Resting on this nest was a beautiful bird. Her body was covered with black shiny feathers which led up to her long elegant neck. She was known as Chloe. Her white-tipped red bill opened and closed quickly as she boasted to her husband, Sebastian, about the contents of her nest.

“Mate, look at my lovely batch of eggs! Have you ever seen so many? The record for this river bank is seven, but I have eight!”

“Well, you do have eight, but what is wrong with that one? It’s so small and leathery, not at all like the other hard pale green ones,” the majestic Sebastian replied, as he nudged the egg with his bill.

“OOOO! It’s even squishy. Maybe it’s rotten. Throw it in the river before it smells up the whole nest.”

“Oh, just let it be,” snapped the beautiful Chloe.

For the next 40 days and nights Chloe and Sebastian took turns sitting on the nest patiently waiting the arrival of their cygnets.

The moment had come at last, one of the eggs began to shake underneath

Chloe. Her heart started to race as she turned her long neck around and

peeked into the nest. To her amazement, coming out of the small and leathery egg was a wide black bill, similar to a duck’s bill. The next thing she saw was a pair of sharp clawed, webbed feet crawling out of the shell. Chloe almost fainted when she saw the brown furry body.

Then she saw the beaver-like tail and two more webbed feet. Chloe stared in wonder at her first little baby, but couldn’t believe her eyes! He looked odd with a face only a mother could love. “I think I will call him Ozzie.”

Before she had a chance to question it further, the other eggs began to hatch.

“Oh, no! What will come out of the rest of my eggs?” she nervously muttered.

One hatched then two, then three, four, five, six, and seven. Out of the other pale green eggs emerged seven tiny, gray, downy cygnets. They were the most gorgeous little cygnets on the river bank. Each one had a narrow black bill and two small webbed feet.

With her head held high, Chloe began to strut around her new cygnets admiring their beauty. As the proud mother paraded her brood around, Sebastian said, “Why they all look so handsome except for that ugly one! Look at those four webbed clod hoppers! Look at that beaver tail! His bill looks like a duck’s! Are you sure he’s a swan?”

“Of course he’s a swan! He came from my nest, didn’t he?” she huffed. “Why look at those webbed feet. I’ll prove he’s mine, Sebastian. Let’s go down to the river and see how he can swim.”

Chloe, Sebastian and their brood waddled down to the river. All the while Chloe hoped she was right. The littlest cygnet was ugly. He was odd looking with all that brown fur and four webbed feet. When they got to the river bank, Chloe lined up her new cygnets and said, “It’s time for a swim!”

Chloe glided effortlessly onto the water. “Honk, honk,” she called.

SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLAT!

Chloe looked back and quickly did a head count. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven cygnets were paddling gracefully. “H-u-u-h!” Chloe gasped. “One of my babies is missing! Oh where, can he be?”

Just then out of the corner of her eye she saw bubbles rising to the surface of the water. Chloe stopped to take a closer look. There, coming out of the middle of the bubbles was Ozzie with a minnow hanging out of the side of his large bill!

“He’s a swan all right. Look at that minnow. I didn’t even have to teach him how to fish.” Chloe bragged to Sebastian.

While Chloe and Sebastian swam ahead, the rest of the cygnets encircled Ozzie and began to tease him

“Just because you caught a minnow doesn’t mean you’re one of us.”

“You’re too ugly.”

“Why don’t you swim with your head up like the rest of us?”

The little cygnets began to laugh and giggle at their ugly brother. Ozzie looked into the water and the face he saw staring back at him did not look anything like his brothers or sisters.

“Come along, children. That’s enough swimming for today,” Chloe called. As they swam down the river towards home all the birds stopped chirping and stared.

The taunting began. “What is that?” one screeched out.

“Have you ever seen such an ugly swan?” another cackled.

“I thought swans were supposed to be beautiful!”

Before long, all the residents of the river bank lined up to gawk at the absurd looking creature.

By the time the swan family had waddled back to their nest, Ozzie lagged way behind the others. His head drooped and his eyes were focused on the ground. Poor Ozzie dragged his four feet as he crawled back into the nest and settled down as far from his brothers and sisters as he could get.

Chloe and Sebastian tucked the cygnets in and they soon fell fast asleep, all except for Ozzie. He tossed and turned worrying about not fitting in. In the distance, he overheard his parents whispering.

“I will not be the laughingstock of the river bank! You must get rid of him,” demanded Sebastian.

“I won’t give up my baby. Didn’t you see the way Ozzie caught that minnow? Please Sebastian, just give him a chance,” begged Chloe.

Sebastian and Chloe continued to argue long into the night. When the first rays of sunshine crept over the horizon, the exhausted mother swan peeked in on her adorable family. The sleeping cygnets were all cuddled together, so it took Chloe a while to check on each and everyone.

Suddenly, Chloe realized that Ozzie was missing. She jumped to her feet and began honking frantically for help. All this commotion woke up the entire river bank.

“What’s going on here?” asked Sebastian.

“It’s all your fault!” cried Chloe. “Ozzie must have heard you talking last night and now he’s gone.”

“Good! I don’t know why you are so worried; we have seven beautiful cygnets still here. That other one was too ugly anyway,” replied Sebastian.

Chloe did not stay around to listen; she began searching for her runaway baby.

Meanwhile, Ozzie sadly trudged away from the river bank and into the woods. “Nobody loves me. Nobody cares. I’m so ugly,” he mumbled to himself.

After walking for a long time, he came to a clearing at the edge of the woods. As he peered into the distance, he saw a red barn. Tired and hungry he decided to head in that direction.

When he reached the barnyard, he met a curly little lamb named Cade.

“What are you?” asked the lamb in a kind voice.

“I’m a swan. An ugly, black swan,” sighed Ozzie.

Looking hard at the swan, Cade said, “You’re not so ugly. You have very nice feet. Would you like to be my friend?”

“Oh, I’d love to be your friend. I’ve never had a friend before!” exclaimed Ozzie in disbelief.

“It looks like you’re beat. Come on in the barn and we’ll get you something to eat,” urged Cade.

Together they went into the barn. The sweet smell of hay was inviting. Lambs and sheep were lazily dozing in the warm cozy straw. Some sheep were eating. Some were playfully romping with their friends.

The instant Ozzie entered, the barn became still. All heads turned to stare at him. The oldest and wisest sheep trotted slowly over to investigate the newcomer.

“What did you drag in this time, Cade? Look out! He looks like a bunyip from the outback and smells like rotten fish. Get him out of here. He’s bloody ugly!” demanded the old sheep.

The barn became noisy with nervous giggling. “He does look like a bunyip!”

“What’s a bunyip?” Ozzie asked Cade.

“Oh, mate, it’s a dangerous mythical creature from the outback. But you don’t have a dog’s face or a horse’s tail. And you seem way to kind to be a man killer,” replied Cade.

All the sheep banded together and glared at Ozzie. His bill began to tremble. Without saying good-bye to his only friend, Ozzie backed out of the barn. Out on his own, again.

Dusk was quickly approaching. The lonely, lost swan stumbled towards the edge of the forest.

Thump-boing! Thump-boing!

“What’s that noise?” Ozzie whispered to himself.

Thump-boing! Thump-boing!

The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Thump-boing! Thump-boing!

Ozzie’s heart beat wildly when he found himself face to face with a giant red-necked wallaby.

“G-day mate. What kind of animal are you? You’re too ugly to be a wallaby, but you do have a fine looking fat tail. Maybe you can balance on it to box with me,” the wallaby spurted out as he began to jab and punch with his front paws.

The frightened little swan didn’t even have a chance to catch his breath before the wallaby leaned back on his tail and led with a good swift kick. Poor Ozzie flew into the air, landed with a thud and toppled down a hill.

Feeling stunned and confused he got back on his feet and stumbled into the forest. As he ran he faintly heard, “You’re not only ugly, you can’t box either…”

Ozzie continued to run until his legs would carry him no further. Out of breath and very tired he nestled under a bush and fell fast asleep.

At dawn, Ozzie woke to the screeching and chattering of rainbow lorikeets. As he peeked out from under a bush, Ozzie’s senses were overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of the rainforest.

There were beautiful colors everywhere – reds, yellows, blues, and every shade of green imaginable. When Ozzie crawled out further from the bush, he felt a gentle tickling all over his body. The rain was refreshing and gave him new energy. The ugly little swan set out to explore his new unfamiliar surroundings.

Ozzie ducked as a splash of color flew right before his eyes. Three clownish lorikeets landed on a branch just above his head.

“I don’t know what that is! Have you ever seen anything so ugly?” screeched one fast talking bird to the others.

“I don’t know either, but it sure is hard on my eyes. Let’s ask what it is,” another hyper lorikeet chattered.

“Hey, you down there, what kind of creature are you?” the lorikeets called out in unison.

“I’m a black swan, “Ozzie sputtered.

The lorikeets burst out laughing. “You’re too ugly to be a swan.” The lorikeets shouted out to their forest friends, “Get a load of this guy, he thinks he’s a swan!”

Fanning himself nearby was a flying fox who yelled, “What kind of swan has four webbed feet?”

A sleepy night glider hanging from a tree opened one eye and replied,” A really ugly one.”

The animals of the rainforest continued to badger and poke fun at Ozzie as he made his way slowly out of the forest. At the edge of the trees, a know-it-all koala named Braydon, stopped munching a eucalyptus leaf and looked down at Ozzie.

“My name is Braydon and I know all the animals that live in the forest, but I have never seen anything like you.”

Ozzie looked down and replied, “I’m a black swan. “

“Well,” Braydon retorted, “You certainly don’t belong here! Take your webbed feet and skedaddle on back down to the river!”

With nowhere else to turn, Ozzie headed back toward the river. He walked for several miles before he came to the tall marshy grass along the river bank. Achy and bushed he dragged his body to the edge of the river and plopped onto his stomach. Ozzie gazed into the river and saw his reflection in the water. With tears in his eyes he cried, “What am I?”

Confused, Ozzie slid into the cool water. He felt right at home and began swimming around. The water was refreshing and Ozzie felt better. Without knowing where he was headed, Ozzie started swimming upstream.

Suddenly, while diving under the water, Ozzie found himself bill to bill with a dead ringer of himself. Shocked, Ozzie jumped to the surface of the water and gasped for breath.

“WHAT WAS THAT?” he cried excitedly. “It looked just like me!”

At that moment another wide-billed head popped out of the water, followed by two others. Ozzie blinked in disbelief.

“Is this where all the ugly swans live?” Ozzie asked.

“We’re not swans. We’re platypuses!” The young platypuses jumped and swam in circles around Ozzie. He was dizzy from turning around to get a good look at all of them.

“They call me Wally,” said the first little platypus. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Ozzie.”

“Where did you come from?” asked Wally.

“I ran away from my mum’s nest. I just didn’t fit in. I’m sure my dad was happy as a pig in mud when I left. He thought I was a disgrace to the family.”

Wally giggled. “Hey mate! That’s because you’re not a swan. You’re a platypus just like me.”

The other little platypuses shouted,” Mum! Come see what we found.”

A larger platypus with soft, caring, black eyes appeared in the water near the three little platypuses. “Let me ‘ave a gander at you. – Why, you are my little lost baby!” shouted the mother platypus. “One of my eggs was missing from my nest and I thought it was gone forever.”

The whole family gathered around Ozzie and smothered him with hugs and kisses. His heart began to swell and he was so happy he thought he might burst. Ozzie finally found where he belonged.

Buster and Oliver are friends. They live next door to each other.

Buster is brown and white with long, droopy ears. Oliver’s ears are short and stick straight up.

Every morning Buster and Oliver meet outside by the backyard fence. They talk dog talk when they bark and sniff and whine.

“Oliver, hurry up.” Buster barks and sticks his nose through a small space near the ground. He wags his tail fast when he sees Oliver jump through his doggie door.

“You sound excited, Buster. What’s going on?”

“Today is special—Billy turns six years old. He got a new bike.”

Oliver runs in circles and chases his tail. “Oh boy, I like Billy. He’s my friend – even if he is a people.” Oliver runs to the front gate and back again. “Will there be balloons and cake and ice cream?”

“I don’t know.” Buster’s long tongue licks his nose. “But I do know we’re having pizza for lunch.”

Buster and Oliver run to the front gate and bark.

A small boy with brown hair and blue eyes stops riding a shiny, blue bike. “You want to play with me?” he asks Buster. He lays his bike on its side in the grass and walks over to the fence.

“Me too, I want to play too.” Oliver barks and stands on his back feet.

Billy opens the gate for his two friends. They run circles around him and jump up to lick his face.

Buster and Oliver chase Billy as he rides his new bike up and down the street.

“Let’s go across the street.” Billy stops at the corner. They look both ways… no cars.

“This is fun.” Billy yells as he pushes the pedals hard and fast and rides up the driveway. Then he makes his legs straight and stands on the pedals while he zooms down the hill and into the next drive.

Buster’s ears flop up and down as he follows Billy. Oliver looks like a rocket racing the boy on the bike.

“Hey kid, get off my property.” Mr. Cratchet runs out his front door waving a newspaper in the air. “I’ll take your bike away and call the police.” He takes off his slipper and throws it at them.

Oliver runs after the slipper and jumps high into the air, catches it and brings Mr Chatchet’s slipper back and lays it at his feet.

“Well, I’ll be…” Mr Cratchet mutters.

“Come on Buster, Oliver.” Billy whistles. His dad showed him how. He likes the sound better than the one his mom makes with her lips… like a kiss.

“Let’s keep going.”

Buster‘s nose stays close to the ground as he follows Billy around the corner and onto a different street.

“Hey, stop.” Oliver barks and stands at the corner by the stop sign.

Buster looks back at Oliver. His ears stand straight up. His right front paw is off the ground and bent. He looks frozen.

“What? Come on. You’re getting left behind.” Buster’s long ears drag the ground as he looks from Oliver to Billy and back again.

“Remember?” Oliver keeps barking. “Billy’s mom said the stop sign and corner are the boundary.” Oliver’s tail points straight out as he looks back at Billy’s house.

“You’re right… Hey Billy, stop.” Buster barked. When Billy stopped and looked, Buster barks again and runs a few steps toward Oliver.

“Come on boys.” Billy whistled again. “We won’t go far. I can see the forest path ahead. Let’s go check it out.” He jumps on his bike and takes off.

Oliver runs toward Buster. “Do you think we should go with him or stay at the boundary?”

“He might need us.”

Billy stops by the forest’s edge and waits for his friends. He scrapes away a trickle of sweat running down beside his ear. He takes off his sweater and ties the arms around his waist.

Buster stops next to Billy and receives a pat on the head. Oliver’s tongue flops outside his mouth and his sides heave in and out as he sits beside Buster..

“Come on you two. Billy’s left foot moves the bike’s pedal to 12:00 o’clock so he can push down hard and coast fast into the shade. “It’s cooler in the forest. Let’s go.”

“He shouldn’t go in there.” Oliver runs half way down the path and then back to the sidewalk. “We’ve never been to the forest before. Don’t go.”

Buster follows Billy down the shady pathway and into the dark shadows. “Someone needs to go with him.”

Billy stops where the path divides and checks to see if his friends are following. “It feels good in here.” He shouts then jumps on his bike and moves further into the forest. The wide path becomes a narrow path and the shadows become darker.

Up ahead Billy sees a large tree standing tall. Its branches hang low and its big roots stick up from the ground. He slides down from his bike and sits on one of the tree’s roots.

Buster sniffs the ground around the big tree. He stops and sniffs the air. Everything seems safe.

“Buster.” Billy leans forward and scratches behind the long ears. “I think I’ve come too far. I should have stopped back at the corner by the stop sign. I’m afraid. Which way leads home?”

Buster jumps into action. With his nose to the ground, he sniffs along three different paths then sits in the middle of one.

“This one smells like the one we used.” Buster barks three times and then leans his head to one side and listens.

“Where did Oliver go?” Billy looks deep into the shady forest.

“Listen.” Buster runs down the path and then back toward Billy. “I hear Oliver. He’s waiting for us.”

Billy grabs his bike and pushes it up the path behind Buster. “It was easier riding down hill.”

The two friends move as fast as they can along the wooded path. They stop and listen then keep moving toward Oliver’s barks.

When Buster sees Oliver he runs faster. “There you are. I’m so glad you stayed here.”

“You saved us, Oliver. You’re a good dog.” Billy rubs Oliver’s head and scratches his ears. “You too, Buster.” Billy scratches Buster’s ears and gets a big lick in return.

“Are you Billy?” A tall man in uniform asked.

‘Yes, sir.”

“I believe that’s your mom standing on the corner by the stop sign.”

Billy glances at the policeman and then over at the corner. Billy’s chin drops to his chest and he looks at the ground. “I’m sorry to cause trouble, mister. I should not have gone past my boundary.” He tilted his head way back to look at the man’s face. “I disobeyed my mother.”

“It’s a good lesson learned, son. At least you admit you’re wrong.” The man rubbed the top of Billy’s head. You better hurry on back. I think she has some lemonade waiting.

Into the woods – not any old woods
The stupid ball would roll.
During the day a great place to play
But at night one might meet a troll.

Meet a troll? – not any old troll
But a He-Hum of special size
With fuzzy ears, fangs and claws
And bright, fluorescent green eyes.

Forget the ball? – it’s a special ball
Autographed and caught at a game
And worst of all – his brother’s ball
And no one else to blame.

He-Hum – mad brother? The choice was clear;
The troll he preferred to face.
Better to die in He-Hum woods
Than to live a life of disgrace.

So into the woods – not any old woods,
each step left light behind.
He searched for the treasure, made vows to live better
And prayed it would be easy to find.

There was the ball – not any old ball
Beneath an aging old tree.
As he stooped to reach it the tree adjacent
Grabbed him before he could flee.

A troll – oh no! Not any old troll
But a He-Hum stood 7 feet tall,
And his mind was racing, contemplating,
“Was this worth it for my brother’s old ball?”

A bright light – what a light! Not any old light
Flashed before their eyes.
The Queen of Green Fairies was picking some berries
When she heard his muffled cries.

He saw his chance – not any old chance
As the fairy the He-Hum distracted;
So he ran for the clearing, the ball adhering,
To the field, the sunlight attracted.

Back on the shelf – not any old shelf
He put his brother’s ball,
And wondered if truly the He-Hum’s unruly,
“I might just go back in the fall!”

Once upon a moon, there was a girl called Lunita, which means Little Moon. Her best friend was Cangrejito—Little Crab, (who was blue) and her favorite color was azul—blue.

One day Lunita found a paintbrush in Tátara-tátara-tátara-tátara (Tátara for short) —her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother’s hut.

“This is a beautiful paint brush, may I keep it?” Lunita said.

“Only if you understand the words inscribed in the brush,” Tátara replied.

Lunita studied the words very carefully. “I understand. Good magic brings joy, bad magic destroys.” — So Tátara gave her the brush. “But mind the message,” the old lady said in her crackling voice.

Now, the paintbrush was no ordinary brush. Besides being made of silver and gold decorated with rainbows and pearls, it needed no paint. All Lunita had to do was wave the brush and wish for a color and the brush painted in that color.

One afternoon Lunita got one of her many bright –and not so bright—ideas.

“Cangrejito, I love the color blue so much that I’m going to paint the rocks and all the minerals blue.”

Little Crab rolled his eyes waving four of his eight legs in the air: “That is not a bright idea. Don’t you like black onyx, green emeralds, rubies, pink seashells?”

“Sure I do. But I would like them better if they were blue,” Lunita said stubbornly.

“Oh, I have no patience with you sometimes. Do remember what Tátara told you when she gave you the brush. You’re overtired. Go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, Cangrejito crawled under the hut and fell asleep.

The next day Lunita woke up very early. Running to the garden, she said, “Brush, paint all the rocks and minerals azul.”

Instantly, everything in the Mineral Kingdom turned blue, including the salt that she sprinkled on a ripe tomato.

Cangrejito had just woken up. “What did you do!” he said annoyed at finding himself the same color of the sand.

“Oh, don’t get so upset. It’s beautiful, all blue. In fact, I’m going to paint this tomato blue…” Looking around, she laughed, “and all the flowers and vegetables too.” And before the crab had a chance to stop her, she was waving the brush:

“Brush, paint all the flowers, fruit and vegetables azul.”

Instantly, everything in the Vegetable Kingdom turned blue. No more red roses, yellow sunflowers, white gardenias, green broccoli, purple eggplants, pink watermelon, orange papayas.

“Awesome! Cangrejito, taste this yummy blue banana,” Lunita said taking a bite.

Little Crab was not listening. He was running as fast as his eight legs could carry him to Tátara’s hut.

BUT, at that very moment, Lunita was waving the brush once again.

“Brush, paint the iguanas, frogs, snakes, leopards, parrots, all the animals and people azul.”

Instantly, all the creatures of the Animal Kingdom turned blue.

As soon as this happened, she realized her silly mistake. Looking around she couldn’t see herself or anything around her.

“Tátara, Cangrejito, please help me, I’m lost in the blue,” Little Moon cried, terrified.

Lunita heard Cangrejito’s voice come out of the blue. “I’ll help you if you promise to use the brush properly.”

“I promise,” she cried.

Slowly, the wise Little Crab started to scratch in the blue till he made a crack to allow the light and the rain to come through. And climbing and scratching and scraping and scuffing and sweating and puffing, he reached the sun. A rainbow appeared. And, once again, the world was glowing with beautiful colors

. “Thank you Cangrejito,” she said kissing him. “That was not a bright idea. Painting the world in one color, even if it’s beautiful azul, my favorite, is down right silly! But where’s is Tátara?”

“She went away, said it was time, but she left you this letter,” Cangrejito said.

“Lunita,

The brush will serve you well to create beautiful paintings as long as you mind the message. But it is not yours to keep. When your hair turns white and you are a Tátara, a child will find the brush and ask for it. And, as I did with you, teach the child. That is your legacy. Take care of Cangrejito; he’s the best crabby friend anyone could have.

Besitos—little kisses—from your Tátara.

Fin – End

There was once a large Russian Blue squishy cat named Shadow. Stormy gray in color, he earned the name “Shadow,” because he always followed his owners, Michael and Mark, who fed and cared for him. It was as though this luscious cat was his owner’s shadow! Shadow loved being an outside cat, but he had no real summertime place to rest outdoors like his comfortable winter hideaways inside by the heater or on a sofa’s back.

When outside on crisp Fall mornings or in the birth of springtime, Shadow loved to hide under the bay window’s belly to keep warm. In the summer, however, when bugs are plentiful in earthen places, what cat would want to lay on the ground? So the Shadow moved restlessly from the sun-drenched porch bench to a warmly wooden ramp, shaped like a cellar door of bygone days, searching for the perfect place to nap.

And then one day a windstorm arose quite suddenly. There was eager rain quenching thirsty ground, but the winds wandered aimlessly, churning and tumbling garbage cans and potted plants from their appointed seats. Blowing outward from the breath of the storm, a sudden gust brought a lounge cushion into the yard from a spot that seemed quite far away.

After the winds had finished their games and moved onward, Michael and Mark removed the cushion from the yard and displayed it carefully on a plastic chair to dry in the returning sunlight. The very next day Shadow’s friends, Michael and Mark, left the chair exactly as it had been, clearly visible in the sun-swept afternoon. They hoped the rightful owner would reclaim the cushion. In the meanwhile, Shadow came along and squished upward and curled into the hallowed out, shallow spot in the cushion’s seat.

Surprisingly, no one ever reclaimed the cushion – except a cat named Shadow. Although Shadow felt a warm wave of gratitude toward the two young men, Mark and Michael, for placing a completely comfortable cushion on a hard plastic chair, this “soft seat for summer sunning” had blown in from afar. It was simply a gift…from where?

Often times the greatest gifts are given in secret. The best gifts are the one’s where no credit is requested nor given, where the gifts are unearned and only quietly received. So it was for Shadow during one eventful summer not too long ago!

Fritz was a one eyed orange long haired male “alley cat”. He had a brother, Alex who had long butter colored fur.

The humans who had adopted the two brothers lived near a forest where tall trees grew and squirrels, rabbits and deer roamed freely.

Alex and Fritz loved hunting in these woods. One day Fritz was all alone in the woods when he had a terrible accident.

Someone with a bb pellet gun saw Fritz roaming the woods and either purposely or accidentally shot poor Fritzy and he felt a terrible pain in his head.

Somehow Fritz made his way home to the people who loved him so very much.

The humans had been very worried about Fritz who had been gone for three days. So when he appeared on the back porch mewing weakly, the lady and man gasped shocked to see Fritz with such a wound around his eye.

They quickly rushed him to a very kind vet who quickly operated on Fritz who felt so much better.

Fritz could not see very well because one eye is different than two eyes but he was very happy he was alive.

He lived a very long time and even travelled around the country with the man and lady who even had a tiny human. The tiny human began pulling his tail, which was very aggravating. This tiny human renamed him “Meow”, so he was called Fritz, Orange Cat and Meow. Good night sleeper tight!

I have a story to tell but first, let me tell you a little bit about myself. I am beautiful. I have gorgeous long hair and eyes that some say look like glassy sapphires. Also, I love to eat. My favorite foods are tuna and chicken. I like to play, sleep, and eat several times a day. Did I tell you I am 15 inches tall and weigh 25 pounds? My name is Sapphire, and I am a cat. I have four precious little babies – kittens. Their names are Prissy, Angie, Alex, and Rocky. They are adorable. Mothers know these things.

One day last week, I took my babies for their first walk down to the pond near our house. Kittens are very curious. On the way, I whispered, “be still.” All four kittens froze. A beautiful brightly colored butterfly fluttered down and rested on Angie’s tiny nose. Next, it landed on Rudy’s head, and then it flew to a nearby bush.

We continued on our walk, but before long, I whispered, “be still.” Once again, all four kittens froze to watch a bushy-tailed squirrel pick up a nut, put it in his mouth, and scurry away. I explained to them he was going to bury the nut so he could dig it up next winter when there were no nuts on the ground. Amazed by this, they watched for a few minutes and then we went on our way to the pond with everyone laughing and talking about the wonderful adventure we were having.

As we walked around the pond, Prissy walked to the edge of the water, and as she looked down, she saw another kitten staring up at her. When Prissy reached out to touch the other kitten with one little paw, she fell into the water with a loud splash.

As you might know, we cats can do many things but we cannot swim. I tried to reach her but she was drifting away saying “mama, mama, please help me!” While I waded as far into the pond as I could, her brothers and sister were scurrying around trying to find sticks to give me to hold out for Prissy. Realizing that none of the sticks were long enough, I became more and more frightened.

All of a sudden, I noticed a very large shiny leaf floating toward my poor baby. I recognized this leaf to be a lily pad. Then I saw the most amazing thing – two tiny green paws grabbed Miss Prissy by her neck, pulled her onto the lily pad, and began to paddle toward me with two skinny little back legs. As he reached the pond’s edge, I grabbed Prissy by gripping the back of her neck with my mouth and dropped her gently onto the soft grass. Prissy shook herself, and then I licked her and purred softly until she curled into a little ball and fell asleep. Then I turned to the pond and saw Angie, Alex, and Rocky staring at the little green stranger sitting on his lily pad staring back at them. Their six little eyes were as wide as saucers. I said, “Thank you for saving my baby’s life!” “You are very welcome,” he said.

I smiled at him and he smiled right back at me. Then he said, “Your little ones have obviously never seen a frog before, Mama Cat.” My three hypnotized babies asked with one voice, “frog, Mama?” Yes, I purred back to them, “this beautiful little friend is a frog.” Then turning to our new friend I said, “This is the first time I have seen you little fellow.” He said, “My name is Freddy, and I hop on the land and swim in the water.” Saying “goodbye,” he turned his lily pad around and swam away.

I looked at my beautiful babies. Just then, Prissy woke up so I marched them home again. The four little ones talked back and forth all the way home about their exciting day and their new friend, Freddy frog. I grinned. I will have no trouble getting everyone to sleep tonight!