stories ‘n stuff
Come in dear hearts! Come in!
My name is Martha Byrd, and I am a sparrow. I live inside a storybook, and I just love having company. It was awfully nice of you to drop by.
While you’re here maybe we can share a glass of milk and a cookie in the kitchen, or go out and play in the garden. There’s lots of stuff to look at and things to do.
I thought maybe you would enjoy reading one or two of our stories, or a wonderful old poem by our friend Mr. Longfellow. Later, there will be some interesting things to make on rainy days, a whole page of Nana’s approved Kid Safe Links and introductions to a few of our very best friends.
Stay as long as you like and come back often, because things change with the seasons, and we always celebrate Holidays in special ways. September through December is our very favorite time of year, so don’t be surprised if we start telling Christmas stories long before Thanksgiving.
Thanks again for coming to visit. Have FUN!!!
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed
by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.
So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor.
Catch the trade winds in your sails.
Explore. Dream. Discover.”
“What I hear, I forget.
Lots to Do!
All links open in a new tab. We’ve checked each one for safety;
Be like a postage stamp.
One of my all time favorites things for kids to do on a “there’s nothing to do day” is to pull out an old steamer trunk filled with outrageous clothes from decades past and let them ‘play dress up’
Write a Play – then invite some friends over and Act it OUT!
The most important thing a father can
Stopping by Woods
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
My little horse must think it queer
He gives his harness bells a shake
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
The Walrus and The Carpenter
Lewis Carroll (from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)
The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright- And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night.
The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the day was done– “It’s very rude of him,” she said, “To come and spoil the fun!”
The sea was wet as wet could be, The sands were dry as dry. You could not see a cloud, because No cloud was in the sky: No birds were flying overhead– There were no birds to fly.
The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand; They wept like anything to see Such quantities of sand: “If this were only cleared away, ” They said, “it would be grand!”
“If seven maids with seven mops Swept it for half a year. Do you suppose,” the Walrus said, “That they could get it clear?” “I doubt it,” said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear.
“O Oysters, come and walk with us!” The Walrus did beseech. “A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, Along the briny beach: We cannot do with more than four, To give a hand to each.”
The eldest Oyster looked at him, But never a word he said: The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head– Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the oyster-bed.
But four young Oysters hurried up, All eager for the treat: Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat– And this was odd, because, you know, They hadn’t any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them, And yet another four; And thick and fast they came at last, And more, and more, and more– All hopping through the frothy waves, And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter Walked on a mile or so, And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low: And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row.
“The time has come,” the Walrus said, “To talk of many things: Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax– Of cabbages–and kings– And why the sea is boiling hot– And whether pigs have wings.”
“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried, “Before we have our chat; For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat!” “No hurry!” said the Carpenter. They thanked him much for that.
“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said, “Is what we chiefly need: Pepper and vinegar besides Are very good indeed– Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear, We can begin to feed.”
“But not on us!” the Oysters cried, Turning a little blue. “After such kindness, that would be A dismal thing to do!” “The night is fine,” the Walrus said. “Do you admire the view?
“It was so kind of you to come! And you are very nice!” The Carpenter said nothing but “Cut us another slice: I wish you were not quite so deaf– I’ve had to ask you twice!”
“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said, “To play them such a trick, After we’ve brought them out so far, And made them trot so quick!” The Carpenter said nothing but The butter’s spread too thick!”
“I weep for you,” the Walrus said: “I deeply sympathize.” With sobs and tears he sorted out Those of the largest size, Holding his pocket-handkerchief Before his streaming eyes.
“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter, “You’ve had a pleasant run! Shall we be trotting home again?’ But answer came there none– And this was scarcely odd, because They’d eaten every one.