tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52159322011-04-21T19:18:07.133-07:00children's storieskathleennoreply@blogger.comBlogger71100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5215932.post-1081882576886356042004-04-13T11:56:00.000-07:002004-04-26T09:02:04.856-07:00

Smarty and Smiley You toss a rock and then I will, said Smiley. You don't know how, said Smarty. Do too. Don't. Do too. You're a girl, you don't know how to skip rocks; Smarty mimed a weak toss, with the make-believe rock falling from his fingers just in front of Smiley. I can do better than that, watch me, Smiley said as she picked up a rock from the edge of the lake, turning it over and

kathleennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5215932.post-1066414733282747762003-10-17T08:23:00.000-07:002003-10-17T11:26:19.180-07:00

THE MANITOU OF POND LAKE This is one of the first stories I told. I have it on tape and listened to it before I came to the library to put in on my website. Daniel Bass was only 4 and Birdie wasn't born yet. I am sitting in my chair, one of two in the other room at the service station building in which we have lived for several years. Randy is yet to die and our dog Tango is sleeping on the

kathleennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5215932.post-1064688573198844752003-09-27T11:49:00.000-07:002003-09-27T11:49:32.660-07:00

CLU AND CLUMMY, CHEQUAMEGON FRIENDS Fall was in the air. The summer of mosquitoes and bugs and beetles was fading fast. Clu, the little brown bat, had been sailing through the soft air of the fall evening. Artfully he swooped and dipped between the leaves that twisted and twirled from the maples shot with red, orange and yellow. Big bronze beech leaves raked downward. Aspen leaves made

kathleennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5215932.post-1063653275942582412003-09-15T10:22:00.000-07:002003-09-15T12:14:35.946-07:00

WOODSON AND PIPER Woodson could barely see over his stomach. He could barely lift his chubby little arms. He chewed slowly on the tender grains he had just plopped into his mouth. He streched out his legs and turned over so his ever-so-big tummy was flattened against the earth, enjoying the feeling of the sun

kathleennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5215932.post-956435482003-06-13T14:56:00.000-07:002003-06-16T14:16:28.000-07:00

a THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO THE FIREFIGHTERS OF THE TALL TREES: SMOKE JUMPERS WHOSE JOB IS THE SAME IN RUSSIA AS IT IS IN THE UNITED STATES. FOR ALL THOSE WHOSE MEMORIES ARE FOREVER IN THE CLEAR STREAMS WE PADDLE AND WHOSE DEDICATION SAVES FOR US THOSE TALL PINES WHERE STORIES ARE BORN AND SPRITS SET FREE. Tango and The Hodag Many years ago, when deep in the Northwoods of Wisconsin,

kathleennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5215932.post-918680842003-04-02T13:30:00.000-08:002003-04-02T13:30:33.936-08:00

The TRUE Story of SMOKEY BEAR Inside the cabin, the man was pushing papers back from the edge of his desk. Lots and lots of papers. Some had crept over the edge and fallen to the floor. They were stacked up in a chair by the side of the desk. On top of the stack was a ranger's hat. Deep green, sharp and every bit as full of pride as the man who wore it. Both the man and the hat had been

kathleennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5215932.post-917364992003-03-31T14:44:00.000-08:002003-03-31T14:44:31.983-08:00

HOW LUCKY GOT HIS NAME Lucky was Little Bear very best friend. Maybe because both of them were always asking questions and always wanting to know WHY which is when Momma Bear usually said why don't you ask Lucky? They had been friends ever since Lucky landed on Little Bear' furry rear end. Now that is another story in itself. This is the story of how Lucky got his name. Lucky was a raven.

kathleennoreply@blogger.com