I do not own 'When will the snow trees grow?' The story belongs to Ben Shecter.
"Please Pop?" Little five year old Peter asked, big doe brown eyes pleaded to his blonde haired father. Steve laughed at his son's enthusiasm.
"Alright," he said scooping him into his arms. Peter smiled with his missing front teeth smile. Steve plucked the book Peter held in his arms, and sat down with Peter on his lap. He felt Peter squirm as he snuggled closer to his dad to get comfortable. He opened the well worn hard back book to a picture of a boy and a bear on the edge of a painted forest where the trees were still green.
"When will the snow trees grow?" He began softly with a smile. He then turned the page to another painted picture, one of the boy and the bear in a pumpkin patch with their backs to either a rising or setting sun over a beautiful autumn farm field and hills.
"After the pumpkins are harvested, And the leaves change color," he continued flipping the page. He felt Peter snuggle closer listening to the lull of his voice. His eyes sparkled looking at the next picture of the bear and boy moving freshly split logs.
"And the wind blows around the house. When the chimneys are cleaned, And the logs are cut, split, and stored," he said looking at his droopy eyed son. he turned the page again to the bear and boy inside a home pulling quilts out of a closet.
"When the warm quilts are taken from the closet, along with the sweaters and coats," Steve continued turning the page yet again. This time the boy and bear were in a barn filled with comfortable straw with a sign selling half priced lemonade and a crescent moon out the window.
"When cold lemonade doesn't taste as sweet. And the darkness comes early. And the cricket's song is soft."
"Then will the snow trees grow?" Peter half read, half asked.
"No," Steve smiled, "We have more time to go..."
He continued to turn the page despite seeing his young son drift off. A wordless page capturing the essence of autumn in a forest with the boy and bear painting a cat on a boat in the lake. Moving to the next page the boy and bear wear in a kitchen.
"When the pumpkins are turned to pie, And when the leaves fall upon the ground," he continued turning the page. The next picture was the boy and bear in a dark home with a candle in paw.
"And the wind blows inside the house, And when the smoke curls from the chimney," he said getting even softer as Peter fought to stay awake. The next page had the bear with a book, sitting near the fire place looking at the boy, who was looking at the book.
"And the fireplace is good to be near," he said turning the page to the bear in a bed with two hand puppets and the boy smiling next to it, "When quilts are on the beds," switching to the next page with the boy and bear walking, bundled in warm clothes.
"And the sweaters and coats are comfortable to wear," he continued on even with Peter barely staying awake. The next page had the boy painting the bear, each with a mug in their hands.
"When hot chocolate is the most delicious thing to drink," he continued. The next page was the boy hugging the bear on a rather dreary night, wear everything looked brown except for the river and the boy's scarf.
"And when there is a quiet , And you can feel the first frosty flake upon your face, Then you will know it is time the snow trees grow," he finished.
"Wanna say g'night to Bwuce," Peter yawned. Steve sighed picking his son up with the book in hand.
"I'm sorry Petey. Bruce isn't here. He is working right now."
Peter groggily grabbed the book and turned it to the page after the story ended. The picture was somewhat sad and filled with longing. The bear leaving the boy to go deep into the woods, the sun not having entirely left the sky giving a dark reddish-orange color. He put his fingers to his lips and then put them over the bear's retreating form.
"That's me," he said pointing at the boy, "And that's Bwuce."
"Why do you say that?" Steve asked his son who was snuggling into the crook of his shoulder.
"Cause he's so nice, and people afwaid of him. An' he had to go 'way," he yawned closing his eyes. Steve gave his son a sad smile.
"He'll come home Peter. A bear always comes home after winter.
.-.-.
Um... Yeah I like this story. I could have had Bruce read it but I seem to hear this story more in Steve's voice than Bruce's... But Bruce is still loved. Isn't Bruce a giant teddy bear? Please review.