Little Red Riding Hood
Jane Dwyer ~ Winnie Fitch ~ Golden Press, 1969
Saw this awesome group of scans on Pikaland the other day and it made me want to hunt down a few of my Little Red Riding Hood books... which led me to this book by Winnie Fitch... which led me to Google... which led me to her Imagekind site which made me completely salivate over some of her wonderful covers with writer John Houston. Hedgerow. The Pumpkin Tree. The Briar Patch Fable. And the favorite, My Friend Nessie. Oh my goodness! Who wouldn't want a toddler T with this picture on it....? Be still my heart.
I'm not sure what the status of their relationship is now.... but....
Once upon a time, Winnie Fitch, an artist/illustrator from Cape Cod, met John Houston, a musician/songwriter from Maine. It was love at first sight and sound. The children of this marriage are the stories and songs they write together in their studios at Hedgerow, on the edge of the Briar Patch.
An adorable idea... but I digress. Back to Winnie alone and her enchanting adaptation of that impish little red hood.
Once there was a little girl who lived with her mother and father in a cottage close to a great forest. So that her daughter would always be warm, the little girl's mother made her a cape with a hood to match. It was as red as a rose, as red as a glowing apple. The little girl wore the red cape everywhere she went. Soon she became known throughout the countryside as Little Red Riding Hood.
You all know what happens after that, though in this version, dear, sweet granny doesn't get chomped. I love the illustrations, particularly the composition. Hood between the wolf's legs at the end of the bed. Her cowering behind the chair. Not to mention the fact that she's wearing glasses. How endearing. I always knew little Hoodie was smarter than she seemed. Now we can blame that mistaken identity on poor eyesight!
1 comment:
Oh my! How cute is red riding hood in eye glasses,purple tights and pilgrim shoes. And the woodsman sorta resembles my man. Amazing illustrations by Fitch. I'm off to find a copy . . .
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