I am pleased to announce the release of my very first children's book! A gentle Christmas tale of
a boy, a tree and the gift of giving. Soft cover edition, 32 pages, for children ages 3 to 8...and for the child in every human heart! All illustrations are lovingly needle felted with natural wool fibers. Simple images for a young child to dream into.
Put on your walking shoes and cap and go outside for a walk with George.
See what is blooming in his winter garden.
Discover the power of giving with a special kind of friend.
Order today to receive this treasure by Christmas!
See my Store Page for details
Thank you for your support and wishing you all a warm and cozy Christmas season,
with love, Christine
Counting the Years
When I was born the summer sun was high up in the sky
The green beans they did run and run, up the poles so high!
When I was one tomatoes grew all round and red and plump
I learned to walk, I learned to run and even how to jump!
And then I grew and grew some more and turned the age of two
I learned to speak and sing among the violets so blue.
When I was three I learned to say "I" instead of me
The Lilies of the Valley they grew up right up to my knee.
And I remember when I was a little girl of four
My hands were yellow, buttery bright from dandelions galore!
At five years old I started school and got a watering can
To water the geraniums that grew in pots and pans.
And at the tender age of six, I liked to watch the ants
Crawling on the peony buds and other kinds of plants.
Then the sun went round and round and seven I did turn
Asparagus grew tall and green mid soft and feathery ferns.
And then upon the age of eight, I liked to climb a tree
where apples grew in autumn time for our family.
And at the age of nine years old, our tree of apricots
Gave us loads and loads of fruit, we liked them quite a lot!
At ten years old, I sold my own bunches of homegrown dill
The first money I did make, it really was a thrill!
And now I am much older now, the years go by and by
I do not count them anymore, the numbers are too high!
But I do like to sit and tell stories now and then
Of memories in the garden green from ages one to ten!
© written by Christine Summerfield/August 28, 2018
Five little girls one summer's day
Went to the garden to laugh and play.
But when the sun so hot did grow
And no cooling breeze did blow...
Grandma had the perfect treat
Watermelon red and sweet!
Juice - a -running
Seeds -a - spitting
Underneath the shade a sitting
There's nothing like the summer treat
Of watermelon and bare feet!
© written by Christine Summerfield/August 25, 2018
G is for Gunnera
Growing in the sunnera
Showing off your great big leaves!
You are so much funnera
As tall as a dinosaur's knee!
You provide a tonnera
Of shade for my friends and me!
© Christine Summerfield/August 20, 2018
I have so many kinds of thyme in my garden green
Some you may have met before and some you've never seen!
And there's so many things to do with all the different thymes
Here's a few to share with you in story and in rhyme...
French thyme and English thyme,
I like to plant in pots.
They grow just by my kitchen door
I cook with them a lot.
And sometimes in my winter tea
I like a little zing
Lemon thyme and orange thyme
are the perfect thing!
Elfin thyme and woolly thyme like to creep and crawl
In the cracks between the stones and along a wall.
It's fun to walk on woolly thyme
in my barren feet
A lawn of thyme is fun to grow
It really can't be beat!
There are so many things to do with all the many thymes
Fun to use and fun to grow and even fun to rhyme.
But my favorite kind of thyme is one you cannot see
Time for tea and teddy bears, friends and family!
© written by Christine Summerfield/June 28, 2018
Such a pretty dolly dock
In summer my oh my!
Standing up so tally tock
Reaching to the sky!
Grows along the wally wock
For all the passersby!
©Christine Summerfield/July 25, 2018
Linden Summer Dreams
Have you ever had a scent that took you far away?
To a distant memory where you once did play?
Well this happened to me on a sleepy summer day...
It came about when I did a walk one sunny afternoon
And suddenly I stepped inside a special kind of room
I then I heard a buzzing sound up in the canopy
The humming of the honey bees intoxicated me
But most of all, what I recall was the sweet perfume
Wafting o'er my senses five, it slowly did consume.
Above the flowers sweet and gold were bracts so green and long
They looked like helicopter wings delicate but strong
Amidst the fragrance and the sound, I slowly fell asleep
And dreamed of places far away with stories wild and deep
Bees a chanting...
Wings a spinning...
The fragrance carried me away with its scent sublime
To other places in the world and to other times
Places where the linden tree is loved and so revered
For its special treasures for a multitude of years
Slovenia was the special place I first saw in the east
Where children danced around the tree during spring time feasts
And then I saw the linden tree in Polish countrysides
Protecting castles and churches old with reverence and pride
And artisans were carving wood from the linden tree
Of Mary holding her little child oh so tenderly
And then I flew to cities grand, Berlin and Paris too
Where linden trees dotted streets and giant avenues
And mothers in the land of France had a wisdom best
Linden tea for children young to help them sleep and rest
And it is said in tales of old that maidens young and free
Waited for their knights so bold 'neath the linden tree
In Germany the leaders met in tiny village squares
Underneath the linden tree to make a judgement fair
For linden trees were symbols then of justice, truth and peace
In ancient lands and ancient times of Turkey, Rome and Greece
I flew around the world it seemed on that summer's day
To places where the linden tree had stories old to say
So if you ever find yourself amidst the linden sap
You just might like to fall asleep for a summer nap
And climb aboard to journey far on helicopter wings
Where the linden tree is loved by poets, knights and kings.
written by Christine Summerfield © July 22, 2018
Umbrella in the Sun
As I was walking down the street one sultry summer day
My umbrella shaded me from the sunny rays.
I held it straight above my head, a shadow it did make
But then I stopped and looked awhile, and said "for heaven's sake!"
I saw a white umbrella too,
but it was upside down
The top was flat, the bottom small
and it was nice and round.
I wondered why it stood right up
and opened to the sky
Instead of pointing to the ground,
it stood so straight and high!
And when I took a closer look
I saw more and more
Teeny tiny umbellets
blooming by the score!
I gazed at this pretty plant
So delicate and white
And then I heard a little voice
So sweet and so polite...
"My family of lady bugs we land here every day
To take a rest and sit awhile after morning play.
You hold your umbrella down
to shade you from the sun
But this umbrella opens wide,
there's room for everyone!
For butterflies and honeybees
and praying mantis too
For ladybugs and dragonflies
with their wings of blue!
"Other plants have umbels too, like celery and dill
Coriander, parsley green, give us quite a thrill!
And then there is the fennel plant
that tastes like licorice sweet
Yarrow flowers, elder too are quite the summer treat!
We love the umbel family, the flowers and the weeds
For resting and for feeding on the teeny tiny seeds!"
I thought about the carrot wild
and the seeds they made
And how umbrellas can be used
for rain or sun or shade!
Thank you dearest lady bug,
you tiny lady bird
For teaching me about the plant,
and the "umbel" word!
written by Christine Summerfield © July 19, 2018
Sitting quietly by the shore
Beholding elements...one, two, three four.
The water splashes! singing clear
Quiet stones sit for a thousand years.
Brother wind blows all a swirl
Patterns made they move and curl.
But where is the fire? you might ask
Father Sun wears his golden mask.
Making diamonds so divine
On the water, they sparkle and shine.
Water, air, fire, earth
Elements Four coming to birth.
© Christine Summerfield /July 14, 2018
Jewel in the Crown
A field full of weeds
as the summer sun burns...
The old ones recede
and the new take their turns...
Blossoming now on the warm summer stage
Enters the King as we turn the page...
Standing tall with scepter of thorns
His purple flowers await to be born.
Filling his crown with flowers bright
Like amethyst jewels they shine in the light.
With his prickles sharp, no one comes near
Instilling respect and a wee bit of fear!
But the winged ones know of his royal treasures
They dig for his gold with fervor and pleasure!
For his flowers are softer to the touch
The bees and the butterflies like them so much!
And when the jewels fade away from the crown
They change to brittle, dry rusty brown
But the gold finch knows of the treasures inside
Quickly she lands and knows where they hide.
She mines all day in a cloudy white puff
Filling her beak with seeds from the fluff!
After the seeds from the rusty old crown
The last gift remains, the gift of the down.
Silky and soft, the gentlest of all
Will line the nests of the finches so small.