Daniel Bernstrom, a visually impaired writer, loves stories that have rhythm and music; stories, as Uri Shulevitz once said, “are the soundtrack to the child’s silent film.” This story of the eucalyptus tree came to Daniel late one night while working as a janitor at a preschool. The eucalyptus tree (a favorite of his mother’s), which grows along the coast of Northern California, tickled his tongue and imagination. The animals in the tree populated the preschool where Daniel worked, waiting patiently atop the shelf at the back for the next day of play. The strange combination of a tickly word and an odd assortment of stuffed animals spawned this undulating syncopated story of impossibility, darkness, and hope.

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Daniel Bernstrom

Daniel Bernstrom, a visually impaired writer, loves stories that have rhythm and music; stories, as Uri Shulevitz once said, "are the soundtrack to the child's silent film." This story of the eucalyptus tree came to Daniel late one night while working as a janitor at a preschool. The eucalyptus tree (a favorite of his mother's), which grows along the coast of Northern California, tickled his tongue and imagination. The animals in the tree populated the preschool where Daniel worked, waiting patiently atop the shelf at the back for the next day of play. The strange combination of a tickly word and an odd assortment of stuffed animals spawned this undulating syncopated story of impossibility, darkness, and hope.