Before I left for the Copenhagen Climate Change Conference, I attended a holiday sale featuring our books. Two young girls around six years of age raced around the room stacked high with titles, pressing their noses to the covers and commenting to each other how each book “smelled” like whatever was pictured on the cover of the book. “This book smells like a tree.” “This one smells like a waterfall.” Their imaginations ran wild, and I enjoyed spying.
Stopping before a stack of copies of The Last Polar Bear one girl looked soberly at
a mother with cub alone upon a vast field of broken ice.
Stopping before a stack of copies of The Last Polar Bear one girl looked soberly at