Starred Review ALA Booklist (Thu Dec 01 00:00:00 CST 2011)

Starred Review A first-time author and the Caldecott Award winning illustrator of A Sick Day for Amos McGee (2011) team up in this beautiful ode to a patient gardener. After the winter, "you have brown, all around you have brown," but small hints of spring, like red robins and rain, hold promise. A young boy, joined by his dog companion, plants seeds, each labeled with a picture of carrots or sunflowers or peas. But as much as they wait, hope, and examine the dirt with a magnifying glass, there's no green to be found. Fogliano's simple, tender text has a solemn tone, which perfectly reflects the anticipatory state of the boy and his animal friends. The woodblock and pencil illustrations give life to animals so expressive and endearing it hurts, and the layout mixture of full-bleed spreads and white-bordered vignettes ces the story well. A two-spread fantasy in the middle of the story which the boy imagines birds pecking at the seeds or bears stomping on them smile-inducing, particularly a scene of a befuddled bear with a planter on his head. But what's most fun to notice throughout are the small, subtle details on each page. It's not easy to wait . . . and wait . . . but children, like the boy, may realize that patience often yields big rewards. HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: Fans of A Sick Day for Amos McGee d award-watchers, in general ll be eagerly anticipating this, Stead's first children's book since winning the 2011 Caldecott Medal.

Starred Review for Kirkus Reviews

A boy plants seeds in late winter's brown, barren earth and vigilantly watches for green sprouts alongside his companions (a dog, turtle, rabbit and bird). Rambling narration, elasticized with many ands, thats, commas and a boy's earnest concerns for his seeds, runs on, leaving readers waiting and waiting and waiting--just like the child gardener. The boy's oversized glasses, his tilted, blank face (we never see his eyes) and tiny chin melt hearts instantly. Stead wisely withholds his features, letting Fogliano's babbling stream of small worries and staggeringly sharp imaginings flesh him out. Silly bears might tread on the plantings, unaware of signs that read "please do not stomp here-- / there are seeds / and they are trying." Germinating seeds issue "a greenish hum / that you can only hear / if you put your ear to the ground / and close your eyes." This elaborate inner world and darling voice reverberate in muted wood-block prints and empathetic pencil illustrations as well, its timbre and tone unchanged. Delicate lines run like fine veins, describing animals, trees, plants and fences with intricate and intentional specificity. Sizable, scalloped cloud formations, whose flat panes of white widen double-page horizons, offset both the scrupulous line-work and abundant regions of brown and blue. Their simplicity ventilates these pictures, allowing readers to note amusing secondary animal activities in the dirt. Many treasures lie buried within this endearing story, in which humor and anxious anticipation sprout alongside one another. This sweet seedling will undoubtedly take root and thrive. (Picture book. 3-8)

School Library Journal Starred Review (Sun Jan 01 00:00:00 CST 2012)

PreS-Gr 2 The lowercase letters in the title and the theme immediately bring to mind "in just spring" by e. e. cummings. That association continues while experiencing the book's economy of words and construction as a single, lyrical rumination (one initial capital letter; one concluding period). If that earlier poem celebrates the fullness of the season, this one re-creates the moment before—the faith-hope-doubt-worry stage that a gardener experiences after planting: "First you have brown,/all around you have brown&30;." A bundled and bespectacled boy, his dog, a rabbit, and a turtle, all sporting red knit hats, survey the barren soil, bare trees, and dried stalks. Stead's warm, finely textured scenes, printed from wood blocks and enhanced with pencil, are imbued with realism and quiet humor. The second-person narrative and immediately recognizable emotions pull readers close, as do the delicate details and nuanced expressions that grace the interplay between the characters and their subtly changing surroundings. Fogliano takes seriously the concerned flights of fancy a child conjures while enduring the interminable progress of a seed: "&30;maybe it was the bears&30;/because bears can't read signs/that say things like/ 'please do not stomp here—/there are seeds/and they are trying&30;.'" Children will intuitively relate to both the agony of anticipation and the effort of growing. This seemingly real-time experience of getting to green is a droll, wistful ode to the stamina behind wanting, will, and perseverance.— Wendy Lukehart, Washington DC Public Library

Horn Book (Wed Aug 01 00:00:00 CDT 2012)

A boy and his companions--a dog, rabbit, and turtle--are on a search for spring. The pacing is exactly right in Fogliano's poetic, understated text with straightforward, childlike observations. Stead's graceful illustrations are woodblock prints with pencil in a palette of browns, grays, light blue, bright green, and touches of red, all set against negative space that most often suggests a cloudy sky.

Kirkus Reviews (Fri Oct 04 00:00:00 CDT 2024)

A boy plants seeds in late winter's brown, barren earth and vigilantly watches for green sprouts alongside his companions (a dog, turtle, rabbit and bird). Rambling narration, elasticized with many ands, thats, commas and a boy's earnest concerns for his seeds, runs on, leaving readers waiting and waiting and waiting--just like the child gardener. The boy's oversized glasses, his tilted, blank face (we never see his eyes) and tiny chin melt hearts instantly. Stead wisely withholds his features, letting Fogliano's babbling stream of small worries and staggeringly sharp imaginings flesh him out. Silly bears might tread on the plantings, unaware of signs that read "please do not stomp here-- / there are seeds / and they are trying." Germinating seeds issue "a greenish hum / that you can only hear / if you put your ear to the ground / and close your eyes." This elaborate inner world and darling voice reverberate in muted wood-block prints and empathetic pencil illustrations as well, its timbre and tone unchanged. Delicate lines run like fine veins, describing animals, trees, plants and fences with intricate and intentional specificity. Sizable, scalloped cloud formations, whose flat panes of white widen double-page horizons, offset both the scrupulous line-work and abundant regions of brown and blue. Their simplicity ventilates these pictures, allowing readers to note amusing secondary animal activities in the dirt. Many treasures lie buried within this endearing story, in which humor and anxious anticipation sprout alongside one another. This sweet seedling will undoubtedly take root and thrive. (Picture book. 3-8)

Publishers Weekly (Fri Oct 06 00:00:00 CDT 2023)

Readers of Shaun Tan-s The Red Tree will recognize the glum-to-radiant trajectory of Fogliano-s soft-spoken debut,