Casey's farm is in his backyard: His animal creatures are toys, a wooden box his barn. But Casey's imagination fires on all eight cylinders; his playthings become the stuff of life. He fancies dusky morning stalls with cows in attendance, rabbits escaped from the hutch, buzzing lama mamas, chicks snoozing under the mother hen, and great grunting pigs (all ably caught by Jordan's camera). After a long day on the farm, Casey shuffles off to bed. Jordan (with Jan Greenberg, The American Eye, 1995, etc.) pens a text so gentle it simply melts into air--""The shy lamb cuddles next to the thick winter coat of mama sheep. Ba-a, ba-a, ba-a-a""--except, that is, when it rambles into the habitual prodding of a kindly keeper: ""Don't go too far,"" says the pig; ""Stay in line,"" cautions the goose. Perhaps any story would play second fiddle to Jordan's hand-colored photographs. Even when the image itself lacks inherently dramatic content, the colors impart an ancient warmth and imbue the image with emotion and, at times, melancholy. At Casey's farm, the days are always summer and the light a shade of gold.