The summer of '28 was a vintage season for a growing boy. A summer of green apple trees, mowed lawns, and new sneakers. Of half-burnt firecrackers, of gathering dandelions, of Grandma's belly-busting dinner. It was a summer of sorrows and marvels and gold-fuzzed bees. A magical, timeless summer in the life of a twelve-year-old boy named Douglas Spaulding--remembered forever by the incomparable Ray Bradbury.
Many memories will be shared over a good book, starting with the time-honored tradition of the bed-time story. Who here remembers begging their parents to read just one more book? "I promise I will go right to bed after the next one;" "I'm not tired yet;" "But I really like both of the books. I don't want to choose." Do any of these sound familiar?