A. D. Boller
Enjoy storylines that pertain mostly to the mishaps of Riley Roberts and Buckwheat. The new characters they meet on their way as their curiousity gets them into situations that are both humorous and educational.
"Buckwheat, Please Come Home" is based on true events. It displays an example for children on how we can co-exist with our surrounding wildlife. It also has a great storyline and is a wonderful bedtime story. Illustrations are hand painted by the actual author in her animated format using watercolors. Very colorful illustrations to help children connect with the wonderful Buckwheat, Riley Roberts and the other key characters. This is the first storybook in the Buckwheat and Riley Roberts series to come.
This and the following series of books to come are keepers for your library. Your children will want to hear and read them again and again.
"Buckwheat's New House" will be available in Spring 2008.
Alicia Boller is the owner of a small art studio in middle Tennessee. She is creative and has always loved to write short stories. Alicia is happily married with two children, both boys, whom she loves to spend all her spare time with. Although she paints and sells art as a profession, she has a great passion for her storybooks. She feels that there is something for each child to learn in every storybook she writes. She has a great admiration for nature and all it has to offer. Alicia feels that in a small way she can help children see how her family understands nature through the eyes of her characters.
Hi, my name is Riley Robert’s and I’m five years old. Soon I will be six years old and that means I will be a big boy. My family and I live in a place called Bodenham.
One sunny afternoon my daddy and I were out in the field next to our house when we found a baby deer. The poor little guy looked really tired and hungry. He couldn’t even lift his little head.
After the baby buck had been with us for several weeks living out in our field my mommy said I could give him a name. “Me, I’m the one who gets to name the baby deer!” I was so excited. I thought as hard as I could for the best of all the best names. I thought so hard that my head started to ache. After several very long minutes passed by I decided to go ask my daddy what he thought I should name the little buck. My daddy liked the name “Buckwheat”. Daddy said that we’ve already been calling him “Little Buck” and we found him in a wheat field so why not call him “Buckwheat”. I loved the name “Buckwheat”. Off I ran to announce to Buckwheat his new name.
Each day that went by Buckwheat got stronger and faster. He was getting bigger now and would disappear for longer periods of time during the day and be gone all night.
One evening when the sun was setting low, I went outside looking for Buckwheat. “Buckwheat, Please Come Home!” I yelled. Finally after the third time I yelled for him, I saw him running through the field toward me. Not far behind him was a full grown doe and Buckwheat’s twin, running at a distance. As Buckwheat continued to run towards me the other two deer slowed their pace.
When Buckwheat approached me, I noticed several scrapes and bite marks all over his body. There was one very big hoof mark on top of his head. I went to go and get my mommy and daddy to take a look at Buckwheat’s marks. Mommy said that Buckwheat would be alright. Daddy said that it looked like Buckwheat may have had a little trouble snuggling up to his daddy buck, but ultimately even with his scrapes and marked head it looked like Buckwheat must have won him over.
Buckwheat went out into the field to play after he finished eating his mashed corn and goats’ milk. He kept raising his head in alarm, acting cautious, like something was amiss. He stuck his nose up in the air as though he picked up an interesting scent. All of a sudden, as fast as he could, he ran into the trees on the other side of the field. He was gone in a split second. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything run so fast in all my almost six years.
Buckwheat never came home that night. He didn’t come home the next morning either. Where was he? It wasn’t like Buckwheat to not come home for his goats’ milk and mashed corn. He had rarely missed a meal.
