One of the first books I owned.
My parents purchased The Little House for me when I was 5 years old. By the time I started kindergarten in September 1955, I had read it cover to cover dozens of time. It's what put me on the road to reading.
Not only did I read the book, I carefully studied the flow of its captivating illustrations, fascinated even at such a young age by a story about how cities grow. Or, phrased more harshly, urban sprawl.
For those of you who follow this blog, you know that this is an interest that has intensified through the years.
Photo by Retiring Guy
Related post:
No comments:
Post a Comment