You might almost believe that Barbara Cooney had a Great-Aunt Alice Rumphius who did just as we read here--else why go to the trouble of spinning out a yarn, composed of transparent storybook motifs (an elderly grandfather who carves ships' figureheads; travels to exotic places; a solitary cottage by the sea), just to arrive at an old lady who strews lupine seeds about? Ostensibly, she's fulfilling her promise to her grandfather to "do something to make the world more beautiful"; in Barbara Cooney's precisionist Maine coast pictures, the drifts of lupine blooms are a tribute to the lupine lady per se. It's a lovely notion, in short, if not much (or too much) of a story.
