The Snowy Day (book)

Have you ever woken up to a world completely changed, wrapped in a soft, white blanket of silence? The noisy city sounds are hushed, and the air feels clean and full of magic. Everything sparkles. Imagine being the first one to step outside, your boots making a satisfying crunch-crunch-crunch in the fresh powder. A little boy in a bright red snowsuit once did just that. He looked up, looked down, and saw a world of adventure waiting for him. He made tracks with his feet, pointing them out and then in. He found a stick and used it to smack a snow-covered tree, plopping a pile of white right on his head. He even fell backward to create the perfect snow angel. Can you picture him there, a small, happy shape in a vast, white world? I am not the snow, or the boy, or the city. I am the story that holds them all. My name is The Snowy Day.

I was brought to life by a kind and wonderful artist named Ezra Jack Keats. Ezra lived in a big, bustling city, but he had a special talent for seeing the wonder in everyday things. For over twenty years, he kept a small clipping he had cut from a magazine. It was a strip of photos of a little boy, full of joy and getting ready for an adventure in the snow. That boy’s spirit stayed with Ezra, and he dreamed of one day creating a story just for him. On October 2nd, 1962, that dream came true when he finally made me. Ezra didn't just use paintbrushes and pencils. He used a special kind of art called collage. Can you imagine making a picture out of cut-up paper and fabric? Ezra used beautiful patterned papers for the walls of buildings and even for the little boy’s pajamas. To make the falling snow look just right, he splattered white ink across the page with an old toothbrush. He pieced me together, bit by bit, creating a world that felt real, textured, and full of heart.

When I first arrived in bookstores and libraries, something amazing happened. You see, back in 1962, it was very rare to find a children’s book where the hero was an African American child like my main character, Peter. But Ezra knew that the simple joy of packing a snowball or sliding down a snowy hill is a feeling that belongs to everyone. I showed the world that a child’s adventure is a universal story, no matter what they look like or where they live. Children everywhere saw themselves in Peter’s bright red snowsuit. They felt his disappointment when his snowball melted in his pocket and his excitement when he woke up to a fresh snowfall the next day. In 1963, I was given a very special award called the Caldecott Medal, which is given to the book with the most beautiful pictures of the year. That gold medal on my cover helped me travel to even more homes, sharing Peter’s adventure with the world.

My journey didn't end there. I helped open the door for more stories that celebrate children from all different backgrounds and cultures. I showed writers and artists that every child deserves to see themselves as the hero of a story. Over the years, I have been read aloud in cozy bedrooms, shared in classrooms, and even turned into a statue in a park where children can play right beside Peter. I became more than just a book about a single snowy day; I became a reminder that simple moments of joy are the most magical of all. The snow will always fall, and the wonder of childhood will never fade. My pages will always be here, waiting to remind you that every single child deserves to lead their own incredible adventure, one footprint at a time.