It Snowed

Written and illustrated by Meaghan Smith

Nimbus Publishing

978-1-77471-413-3

32 pp.

Ages 3–7

November 2025 

 

In my part of the country, many children (and adults) woke up today to a winter wonderland. And that wonder is captured in the text and art of Meaghan Smith in It Snowed.

 

From It Snowed, written and illustrated by Meaghan Smith

Two young children wake up to find that it snowed in the night. They are delighted, along with their dog and maybe their cat, to see deep drifts of snow have coated the yard and the road. When their parents suggest a day to play hooky, they bundle up and go sledding. 

How merry

    How bright

A snowfall turns the 

     world into a lovely sight (pp. 20–21) 

When the day ends, and after an evening by the fireside, the children head to bed after wishing on a star for, you guessed it, another snow day.

From It Snowed, written and illustrated by Meaghan Smith

Meaghan Smith may be the author-illustrator of It Snowed but she's also the award-winning singer-songwriter who wrote the song titled "It Snowed." (You can listen to different versions of her song on her YouTube channel.) That song, and now this picture book, capture children's joy of a snow day when it's all about the promise of play in the snow. It's about being outside the whole day, overlooking the cold, and only coming inside to warm up, eat, and then get ready for bed. It's a special time and the stuff of memories.

 

The rhyming text points to its derivation from a song, but Meaghan Smith's illustrations give it a new dimension, one of softness and of sensation. Those children, and even their pets and wildlife, remind us that snow gives us a different world. It can be one of ordinary play, but it can also be one of magic. And Meaghan Smith's art sparkles just as snow does.

From It Snowed, written and illustrated by Meaghan Smith

We'll have many more days of snow ahead—apparently we're in for more cold and snow this winter—so it'll be a perfect opportunity to bring out It Snowed to read and to sing after a day of play and perhaps after enjoying a hot chocolate and a fire. It'll be a treat for bedtime and to spark some delightful dreams about yet another snow day.

The First Christmas Tree: An Innu Tale

Written by Ovila Fontaine

Illustrated by Charlotte Parent

Translated by Ann Marie Boulanger 

Orca Book Publishers 

978-1-4598-4180-2 

56 pp.

Ages 6–8

October 2025 

 

Many of us are getting into the holiday spirit and putting up Christmas trees or thinking about getting one. Perhaps that's why I've put off reviewing this lovely new picture book until there's snow on the ground and a nip in the air. 

From The First Christmas Tree: An Innu Tale, story by Ovila Fontaine, illus. by Charlotte Parent

Ovila Fontaine, an Innu Elder from the First Nation of Uashat mak Mani-Utenam on the northern shore of the St. Lawrence River, won the 2024 Governor General award for his French-language edition, Le premier arbre de Noël. That lovely book has now been translated into English and more young people will have the opportunity to read a story of the Great Manitou choosing the fir tree to bring brightness during the cold, harsh winter.

The Great Manitou begins his search for the perfect tree. For each of the trees he approaches, he recognizes positive attributes, knowing how each tree is used by the Innu. There's the birch tree with its flexibility and strength, useful for snowshoes, bowls, harpoons, canoes, and drums. There's the larch (tamarack) tree with its hard wood and usefulness for bows and sleds, and more medicine made from its bark. The Great Manitou also visits the black spruce whose mossy branches provide firewood for the Innu and food for caribou. The only tree he disregards is the fir tree.

From The First Christmas Tree: An Innu Tale, story by Ovila Fontaine, illus. by Charlotte Parent

When the Great Manitou approaches the birch tree, the larch tree, and the black spruce, he asks them if they'd like to be the first Christmas tree and bring joy to Innu children. Each tree declines, only concerned for how it might affect them. Finally, with the fir being the only tree left to ask, the first Christmas tree is found, and the other trees are chastened by the Great Manitou and given attributes that characterize them to this day.

From The First Christmas Tree: An Innu Tale, story by Ovila Fontaine, illus. by Charlotte Parent

Though many of us will recognize the fir as the most popular Christmas tree, Ovila Fontaine's tale shows us that that recognition was hard-won. Like many things in life in which your potential is not seen or disregarded, timing can be everything. For the fir tree, it was being in the right place at the right time, and being open to an opportunity, something the other trees were too egotistical to embrace. More importantly, each tree that declined the honour of being the first Christmas had consequences thrust upon them by the Great Manitou, censured for their lack of generosity and humility. And though most of the trees showed pride and minimal grace, Montreal illustrator Charlotte Parent makes all the forest and its animals glorious. Using gouache, she creates these expansive scenes of woodland life, flora and fauna. The dark and cold of winter is expertly achieved with lavender blue and variations thereof and with brushstrokes for mounds of snow. The infrequent but bold pink of the animals—described in an illustrated glossary of English and Innu-aimum words—and persons indicates the rich presence of the spirit of the Great Manitou in the natural world and its omnipresence.

From The First Christmas Tree: An Innu Tale, story by Ovila Fontaine, illus. by Charlotte Parent

An enchanting book for the holiday season, The First Christmas Tree is a different kind of origin story. Not only do we learn the Innu tale of how the fir became known as a Christmas tree, but we also learn why the birch loses its leaves in the fall, why the larch sheds its needles, and why the black spruce never grows tall or wide and has prickly needles. With its quietly dazzling artwork, it's a picture book to be appreciated beyond the Christmas season.

 

• • • • • • • 

 

Le premier arbre de Noël

Ecrit par Ovila Fontaine

Illustré par Charlotte Parent

La Pastèque  

978-2-897771492 

2023 

 

 

A Single Dreadlock

Written by Xaiver Michael Campbell

Illustrated by Eugenie Fernandes

Groundwood Books

978-1-77306-938-8

32 pp.

Ages 3–6

September 2025 

 

For many, our hair, or lack thereof, can define us. If hair is present, it can be one of the first attributes by which people identify others: colour, length, texture, appearance. And when you're new to a community and your hair is unusual, it can unfortunately become the difference that separates rather than connects. Ask Lovie.

From A Single Dreadlock, written by Xaiver Michael Campbell, illustrated by Eugenie Fernandes

As a young child in Jamaica with his dads and grandma, Lovie grew up feeling like he belonged. He looked like the other kids, and his grandmother would care for his hair every Sunday before bedtime. She would grease and comb and then style it whatever way he wanted. But then he and his dads move to Newfoundland, and no one, not even his fathers, know how to tame his curly hair. In the summer, his hair is free and full and playful, dreading in one spot only. Lovie likes that. But when he goes to school, a bully pulls at the one dreadlock and makes fun of Lovie's hair. Now, instead of appreciating all the loveliness of his hair, Lovie wants to hide the dreadlock and avoid the teasing. 

From A Single Dreadlock, written by Xaiver Michael Campbell, illustrated by Eugenie Fernandes

When his grandmother comes for a surprise visit for Chanukkah, she reassures him that dreading is what their hair type does naturally, and that his strands are full of love. Loving the idea of his hair hugging itself in dreads, he's pleased when his grandmother gets out her hair grease and works on Lovie's hair, making perfect dreads. Proudly he displays them at school. When he's taunted once again, he tells the kids, "They're called dreadlocks, and I love them. And please don't touch my hair."(pg. 28)

From A Single Dreadlock, written by Xaiver Michael Campbell, illustrated by Eugenie Fernandes

Lovie's story is Xaiver Michael Campbell's story. It's one of immigration from Jamaica to Newfoundland. It's one of fitting in to a new community and self-acceptance. It's one of heritage and family, of traditions and self-love. It's a big story about hair. You just wish young Lovie didn't need to endure any intolerance of his differences, but we can be thankful that he has a grandmother with such wisdom and love to help him see the joy of his hair. A writer of both fiction and non-fiction, A Single Dreadlock is Xaiver Michael Campbell's first children's book. And it is a deeply personal one because it is one that was lived. Still, Xaiver Michael Campbell's focus is on the joy that is his hair and the help he gets from his grandmother–as well as some generous aids–rather than the bullying. By placing the emphasis on Lovie rather than his unnamed bully, Xaiver Michael Campbell lets young readers see that Lovie and how he feels about his own hair is the story.

 

The joy of Lovie's life in Jamaica and in Newfoundland is depicted in Eugenie Fernandes's paintings (acrylic on watercolour paper). She emphasizes Jamaica's tropical nature and Newfoundland's temperate climate with shades of yellow and blue, but she always makes Lovie this beacon of happiness. Eugenie Fernandes has always been able to bring the warmth of goodness into her art work (e.g., When Rabbit Was a Lion, 2023, and Finding Lucy, 2019), showing children, or animals, finding the strength to be themselves, regardless of those who cannot accept differences. Between her choice of colours and the lushness of the lines she uses to create shapes, whether mangoes, water, or hair, Eugenie Fernandes makes us feel the warmth of place and people.

 

We all have something that makes us unique. It might be a single dreadlock, or a physical attribute, or a skill. But a difference does not need to isolate us. It can be a difference that bears strength and individuality rather than inequality. I hope that Xaiver Michael Campbell always celebrates his hair in whatever style he wants now.

The Perfect Paper Airplane

Written by Robert Munsch

Illustrated by Michael Martchenko

Scholastic Canada

978-1-0397-1518-9

32 pp.

Ages 3–7

October 2025 

 

When Kevin's father, a lobster fisherman in New Brunswick, makes a paper airplane at the breakfast table, they're all impressed. Then Kevin's mom takes up the challenge and makes a paper airplane that flies around the kitchen three times. Definitely more impressive. But when Kevin makes one, it doesn't go ZOOOM! or ZOOOOOM! Instead, it goes SCHLORB. (Notably without any exclamation.)

From The Perfect Paper Airplane, written by Robert Munsch, illustrated by Michael Martchenko

There was nothing to do but practise, so Kevin heads to his fort to make one paper airplane after another, but they all go GESCHLURP into the pond. But just before heading to catch his school bus, Kevin makes one last paper airplane with purple and orange flames, and it goes ZOOOOOOOOOM! In fact, it zooms off so well that Kevin can't see it anymore, and he says to himself, "Well, that's that." (pg. 10)

From The Perfect Paper Airplane, written by Robert Munsch, illustrated by Michael Martchenko

But it's not the end of that incredible paper airplane. Kevin soon sees it keeping pace with the school bus, and then it flies into the classroom through the window and creates chaos. When he goes to meet his father's boat at the dock, the crew are busy trying to nab that same paper airplane. Days later, it flies through the family car as his mother drives to school.

 

Everywhere that paper plane soars and glides, mayhem ensues. Would that perfect paper airplane continue to cause pandemonium, or could it actually do good? 

 

This latest Robert Munsch–Michael Martchenko collaboration has all the elements that have made their picture books such favourites. There's the familiarity of a common childhood experience (making paper airplanes), the wonderful silliness of an extreme scenario (a paper airplane that goes on for days), and sounds with oomph (like "geschlurp" and "schlorb"). Robert Munsch bases his stories in reality but takes them into the dimension of improbability and gives us laughs at the playfulness of kids being kids. It's sweet, and it's funny. Michael Martchenko, who has illustrated over twenty-five books written by Robert Munsch, matches the story's whimsy with his playful artwork. From the breakfast table with its colourful and messy cereal, to mom in her curlers and bunny slippers, to the dock scene with laughing gulls, escaping lobsters, and drying socks, Michael Martchenko makes us see the ridiculousness of the paper airplane fiasco. And still, it's just a story about a kid who has fun with his family, who goes to school and who wants to achieve something. As silly as it all is, it's still very real.

From The Perfect Paper Airplane, written by Robert Munsch, illustrated by Michael Martchenko

I won't be surprised if young readers are inspired to try their hands at making their own perfect paper airplane. (Fortunately, there are how-to instructions at the back of the book.) Their planes may not fly for days or become a nuisance to their teacher or to a boatload of lobster fishermen, but the kids will delight with the opportunity for competition and accomplishment, and perhaps a tall tale or two.

Call Me Gray

Written by Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen

Illustrated by Tallulah Fontaine

Kids Can Press

978-1-5253-1135-2

32 pp.

Ages 4-8

October 2025 

 

For a four-letter word, "gray" packs a lot of meaning. It can mean the colour that is between black and white, the two sides that allow no middle ground. It can mean the dullness of a cloudy day with the absence of sun pulling a pall over everything. It can also reflect a feeling of detachment or depression, far more profound than the blues of sadness. But, for the child in Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen's story, it's a name that holds colour and brightness, sunshine and joy.

From Call Me Gray, written by Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen, illustrated by Tallulah Fontaine

It's the beginning of winter, and an unnamed child is looking forward to some wonderful traditions that they and their father partake in, starting with the building of their ice rink. But this year, this child knows something has changed.

But this year feels different.

 

It's not the snow

and it's not the cold.

 

It's me. 

 (pg. 6)

 

From Call Me Gray, written by Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen, illustrated by Tallulah Fontaine

As they build their ice rink, the child hesitantly tries to gain some clarity to their feelings. A  recent incident, in which their best friend doesn't invite them to her sleepover because it's only for girls, has them saddened and perplexed. Talking to their dad, the child asks some very big questions including, "Do you ever feel mixed up about who you are?" (pg.12) Their dad tries to answer this and other questions but it's obvious that he's not grasping exactly what his child is asking. Still, as their work progresses, there is one statement that makes their dad stop and think and appreciate what his child is saying. 

"I look like a boy but

sometimes I feel more

like a girl."  

   (pg. 15)

And with that meaningful communication,  a subtle but monumental change begins to take place in the midst of enduring winter traditions.

From Call Me Gray, written by Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen, illustrated by Tallulah Fontaine

I have reviewed so many Andrew Larsen books, both picture books and middle-grade fiction, including Goodnight, Hockey Fans (2017),  Dingus (2017), and Me, Toma and the Concrete Jungle (2019), and each one seems deeply personal. Call Me Gray has that same overtone, perhaps because Andrew Larsen has written it with his son, and the two have spoken of Bells Larsen's own experiences as a transgender person. I don't know if Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen built ice rinks together and enjoyed hot chocolate afterwards, but the relationship between father and child in Call Me Gray is a touching one without being saccharine. In fact, it's quite real. They speak, they interact, and they question as they try to understand themselves and the other. And it's obviously a safe space in which to question and to make choices. 

From Call Me Gray, written by Andrew Larsen and Bells Larsen, illustrated by Tallulah Fontaine

This is the first children's picture book that Edmonton's Tallulah Fontaine has illustrated,  though her work has been featured on advertising displays and in numerous publications including the New Yorker, the New York Times, and The Economist. Rendered in gouache and finished digitally, her illustrations focus on that which is important: the relationship between the child and their father, as well as others. Tallulah Fontaine shows them pounding stakes, shovelling snow, and chatting while they work. She shows them putting on their skates and skating and always interacting, either in silence or in important conversations. Their work, together to build rink or to build understanding, is the goal. And Tallulah Fontaine always conveys much in the faces of her characters, whether it be disappointment, confusion, contentment, or hope.

Call Me Gray may become a wonderful story starter for challenging conversations about gender identities or about encouraging self-expression or about building an ice rink. It might help children share their feelings, or help their parents establish safe spaces to discuss big issues. But Call Me Gray may also take "gray" out of the unfavourable realm and move it into one of inclusivity and association and positive change.

The Inquisitive Raven

Written by Richard Wagamese

Illustrated by Bridget George

D & M Kids (Douglas & McIntyre)

978-1-771624497

32 pp.

All ages

September 2025 

 

Last year, the first book in the Richard Wagamese Storybook Collection, The Animal People Choose a Leader, was published. This beautiful book, a retelling of a short story by the late Richard Wagamese with illustrations by Bridget George, introduced new readers to his writings. Now, with The Inquisitive Raven, the second book in this collection, a story of curiosity, determination, and self-acceptance, there will be new readers of all ages who will be drawn to the wisdom in Richard Wagamese's Ojibwe storytelling and the beauty of Bridget George's digital artwork.

From The Inquisitive Raven, written by Richard Wagamese, illustrated by Bridget George

Rueben is the titular inquisitive raven. Some might see him as nosy, but he just finds the world to be an amazing place. He is especially curious about the other animals and what they do.  Grampa Raven, ever supportive, tells Rueben, "Wonder is the glue that holds everything together. It keeps you searching, eager for more." (pg. 10) 

 

When Rueben sees a magnificent eagle with its impressive wingspan and ability to soar, his grandfather tells him of Migizi and that she is blessed with many gifts. Sadly, Rueben then sees himself as lacking and decides to learn to soar like Migizi. 

He craved the sensation of becoming more: bigger somehow, more beautiful, less a raven and more revered and respected like an eagle, through the singular act of soaring. (pg. 17) 

From The Inquisitive Raven, written by Richard Wagamese, illustrated by Bridget George

With great determination and much practice, Rueben learns to soar, but when he goes to demonstrate his newfound ability, fatigue and fear get the better of him and he plummets to the ground. He is devastated to think that others will not respect him as they do Migizi, but Grampa Raven has wise words to share about Rueben's own gifts and the blessing that is respect.

From The Inquisitive Raven, written by Richard Wagamese, illustrated by Bridget George

Taken from Richard Wagamese's One Drum: Stories and Ceremonies for a Planet (Douglas & McIntyre, 2013), The Inquisitive Raven has an important message about self-acceptance. Like many of us, Rueben aspires to be admired, though he doesn't recognize that he already is appreciated by the other animals for his curiosity and enthusiasm for learning. In fact, it is that curiosity and passion for knowledge that takes him to try something new and work hard at achieving it. He may not reach the heights of Migizi, but his skill at soaring and his consequent plummeting are recognized as amazing just the same. Through Rueben, Richard Wagamese helps us respect the best in ourselves.

 

Bridget George is an Anishinaabe illustrator who has also authored her award-winning picture book It's a Mitig! (D & M Kids, 2020). Her art is created digitally with a Woodland style to her animals, giving shape and movement with the internal lines. While Rueben and many animals are in earthy browns and blacks, Bridget George adds colour in her landscape features like the blues and pinks of her skies and water, and in her decorative, embroidery-like flowers.

From The Inquisitive Raven, written by Richard Wagamese, illustrated by Bridget George

The Inquisitive Raven will be a much-cherished gift that will be appreciated for many years and countless generations. Beautifully covered in textured buckram, and decorated with Bridget George's Woodland-style art, The Inquisitive Raven lets us connect once again with Richard Wagamese and share in his insight into the value of curiosity and recognizing the gifts we have.

 

• • • • • • •

 

For teachers, there is a Teacher's Guide available from Douglas & McIntyre here.

 

 • • • • • • •

The One About the Blackbird

Written by Melanie Florence

Illustrated by Matt James

Tundra Books

978-1-774882665

40 pp.

Ages 4–8

October 2025 

 

I don't know which song is the one about the blackbird, but I've been humming Paul McCartney's song from the Beatles' White Album ever since I read this picture book, and I could see why it had such an impact on young Jack. This is the story of Jack and the music that imbued his family life, and the connection he made with it and his grandfather. 

From The One About the Blackbird, written by Melanie Florence, illustrated by Matt James

Jack recalls being a kid with music all around at home, whether his grandfather was playing one of his many instruments—sax, guitar, trumpet, keyboard, drums—or spinning an LP from his extensive collection. The day his grandfather agrees to teach him to play the guitar, especially his favourite song, the one about the blackbird, Jack is thrilled. But, playing the song as well as his grandfather does not come instantly.

He struck the strings wildly, almost dropping the guitar at the loud, tuneless BROOOONG that honked out of the instrument. (pg. 15)

From The One About the Blackbird, written by Melanie Florence, illustrated by Matt James

Though it is hard, Jack perseveres and can finally play the song and others. And when he is older and leaves home, Jack plays for crowds worldwide. 

 

When Jack returns home, his grandfather has forgotten how to play that favourite song and even that he'd given his old guitar to Jack. But, when Jack plays the song for him, reconnecting the two to each other and their past, his grandfather remembers it as "the one about the blackbird."

 

Earlier this week, I reviewed a book about music bridging generations, and now we have another about the power of song to connect across time. But Melanie Florence, whose earlier picture books emphasize connections between young people and their Indigenous family (e.g., Missing Nimâmâ, 2015, Stolen Words, 2017, and Kaiah's Garden, 2024), makes music the bond between a grandfather and their grandchild. First, that bond comes from the grandfather sharing his love of music with a child, and then a grown man reminding his elderly grandfather of that bond. Regardless of who was teaching about the music, the message that, "If it was easy, everyone would do it" is repeated, both encouraging and uniting. Melanie Florence helps us see that change does not mean loss, just a reconfiguration that can be just as rich as the original.

From The One About the Blackbird, written by Melanie Florence, illustrated by Matt James

Matt James, illustrator of award-winning books including I Know Here (Laurel Croza, 2010), The Northwest Passage (Stan Rogers, 2013), and When the Moon Comes (Paul Harbridge, 2017), gets deeper into that relationship with his acrylic artwork that also includes textured elements. Whether the boy is hanging out with his grandfather, struggling to hold a guitar, or showing his grandfather how to move his fingers into position, Matt James makes us feel the effort of their attachment. The emotion in their struggles and their joys jump from the page, reflected in their faces, their body language, and their actions. 

 

Like the blackbird of that song, the boy, and later young man, learned to fly. He learned to take flight in song and in life, gathering knowledge at the feet of one who knew how. And when that knowledge wanes, as happens with time and age, that grandson helps his beloved grandfather hear the song again.