Christmas in the forest

 It was quiet in the forest on a frigid winter's day. The sound of his footsteps was the only sound he heard. He pulled a sled behind him to gather a Christmas tree like he's done for three decades. But this year was special as his two kids and their kids were coming for the holidays. They hadn't been to see him since the cabin was completed, so they would know it wasn't just a one-room cabin. He sent them pictures showing the rather large house with a wrap-around porch, a second story with three bedrooms, and the ground floor with the master bedroom. The living room had a huge fireplace, big enough to warm every room. Massive timber beams added not just structure but also proved his worth as a master craftsman. He was especially proud of the kitchen, with a butcher-block island for food prep and steel hooks he forged to hang pots and pans from the ceiling. He searched high and low for a wood-burning oven and found one 30 miles away at an auction. He used the oven when cooking just for himself, but when guests were coming over, he cooked in the fireplace, where, using his skill as a metalworker, he designed a simple device to hold a heavy iron pot he used to cook stews and soups, letting them slow cook for hours.

He worked on the house for three years, each part of the process a labor of love. He didn't have any close neighbors, as his property covered 25 acres. His sanctuary, if you will, a place hunters dare not go, was clearly stated in the no trespassing signs scattered about his property. Anyone who ignored the signs and came to hunt would be met with a shotgun blast aimed at the sky as they ran away and off his land, never to return. He did have friends scattered across hundreds of acres who were always eager to help each other if needed. Trading was a huge part of life in the forest, and every autumn, when crops were harvested, fresh vegetables and fruits would be traded for help building shelters or running water lines from streams to the house, the lifeline of any homestead. There was an abundance of skilled workers who were always eager to help, so when it came time for the second story to be built, several men showed up to help.

He felt bad sometimes living so far into the forest. Although his kids were grown with kids of their own, he thought he was missing out on the things a grandpa does with his grandkids, so he tried very hard to fit a week into months of fun and learning the ways of the forests. This year, in his workshop, he built four wooden sleds with room for two and steel runners that would mean very fast sledding down a hill next to his house, which looked daunting to him. With the first sled done, he walked it up the hill where he could see for miles away. He positioned himself, and with a few fast steps, he jumped belly down and raced down the hill. Faster and faster the frigid cold slapping his face as tears froze his beard, and the sled went faster and faster until finally slowing down and reaching the bottom. He rolled off the sled, looking at the sky, wondering if he'd better make some smaller runners for safety's sake.  What would be the fun in that, he asked himself as he walked up the hill, ready to ride again.

With the kids arriving in two days, he had a lot to get done. He had found a Christmas tree which he set up in the living room, leaving the decorating to his daughter and, of course, the little ones. He went into the root cellar, picked out the vegetables and fruits he would need to prepare Christmas dinners, and spent a good amount of time chopping and cutting everything into bite-sized pieces. Tomorrow, he would stoke the fire and pour the vegetables, along with spring water, into the iron pot, where they would slowly cook for about 20 hours.    He checked the oil lamps for fuel and placed candles around the house, both creating a beautiful glow.

His daughter informed him she and the kids were vegetarians, so he put together a side dish of tofu turkey for them, but it was real turkey for the rest of them as fresh as fresh gets when you shoot one yourself. He made a couple of fruit pies from a recipe he got from a friend at the market in town, but saved baking cookies until the kids arrived.

Christmas Eve, and he was running late. He had to be at the main road to meet the train, which would only stop if people were gathered there. He got there in plenty of time to put some blankets on the floor of the trailer he pulled behind his snow ski. He hoped they were all dressed warm enough to make the ride to the homestead without freezing solid. The train stopped, and his family stepped off as he gathered their bags so the train could move on. There were hugs all around as they settled on the trailer, wrapped in blankets, and headed home. Coming to a stop in front of his house, everybody just stood there, mouths wide open. It's incredible, " his daughter said. You did all of this yourself? Well, most of it, he replied. I had neighbors' help for a lot of it. Let's go inside and warm up.

Entering the house felt like walking into a postcard of a winter wonderland.  He had decorated the railing leading upstairs with pine bows and a beautiful, undecorated Christmas tree, ready for the magical touch of children. The smell of the stew and pine filled the air as the grandkids explored the upstairs, claiming a bedroom. When the tree was decorated and the colored lights were turned on, everyone gathered around to see the beauty of the season and to enjoy a cup of hot chocolate, which he said he would make as soon as he stoked the fire in the kitchen stove.

The hour was late as the grandkids went off to bed, dreaming of tomorrow and wishes coming true. Downstairs, his kids opened a suitcase filled with presents they had packed, assuring the kids Santa would find them here, tucked away in the forest. His daughter put the presents under the tree, and after a long day, everyone but him went off to bed and got a good night's rest. He made his way to the woodshop, where he got the sleds and brought them inside to put under the tree. He didn't know for sure if the grandkids still believed, but just in case, he put out a plate of cookies and a glass of milk for the jolly old man himself.

Christmas morning arrived, but everyone but him was still fast asleep. It must be the fresh air and comfortable beds, he thought as he brewed a pot of coffee and plugged in the tree, waiting for the mice to stir. Maybe it was the smell of the coffee or cinnamon rolls he just took out of the oven, but all of a sudden, the house was filled with joy as the grandkids shouted out that Santa did come way out here as they tore open their presents. His kids came into the living room in time to see the last gifts opened, and the magical looks on their children's faces as they looked over the sleds he had made for them. Can we try them out? The grandkids asked. Can we? First, some breakfast, she answered. I'm sure Grandpa has some oatmeal that will keep you warm inside. Will warm cinnamon rolls work? He asked.

After putting on their warmest clothes and heavy jackets, they went outside on a frigid morning. They pulled their new sleds up the hill until they looked like specs to those below. Be careful his daughter yelled as the kids raced down the hill at speeds she thought were way too fast. You see, he said they're having the time of their life. No crashes yet, " she answered him. His son finally came outside, saying he needed a second cup of coffee, but it was time to show them all what a real sled man can do. My old sled is still in the workshop, he asked his dad. It sure is he answered. He pulled it out from beneath years of who-knew-what and headed up the hill. Oh, be careful she said with genuine concern. The grandkids were shouting at him and offering support, anxious to see what he could do. So, with a mighty run, he jumped onto his sled and rocketed down the hill, flying past his kids to their surprise and delight. After several runs, everybody was frozen and as happy as anyone can be when their clothes are frozen to their skin, and icicles hung off their faces.

Back in the warmth of the house with a fire blazing and the stew done, they all sat at the table and gave thanks for the blessing of family and the true meaning of Christmas. But there was a feeling of sadness as everyone realized they would have to leave and go home, where the air doesn't smell like pine, and the warmth of a fire is just a vent blowing warm air. But memories were made in those few days, memories that will remain with all of them. When the time came, he hitched up the trailer and wrapped them in blankets, taking them to the main road where the Polar Express would stop to pick them up. Hugs and kisses all around, and hidden tears not wanted to be seen.  He stood there for a while watching the train pull away, and the faces of his family pressed against the windows, waving goodbye until next time. He walked up to the house and saw the four small sleds and one old, a bit larger, perched against the house. He put them all in the workshop, wiping away the tears, and headed inside for a bowl of stew.

Mike 2025                                                  

If you believe

 In a dream, He always wanted to be Santa Claus in a big-city department store. It was more than his love for children; it was as if he were going back in time to another life he often thought about, a magical place, and a time when children dreamed about simple toys handmade by elves in a faraway land. He thought about sitting on a big red chair with lines of children in awe at the mere sight of the man himself, who, with a touch to his nose, could make dreams come true on Christmas morning.

It would warm his heart as he listened to little voices with well-rehearsed lists of toys they wanted and telling him they had been good all year. All year, he would ask, laughing, and assured them he knew. Every child had the same wishes, but not all were granted, as one by one, some with expensive clothes, others with hand-me-downs, sat on his knee, telling him about the dolly or the bicycle they wanted. He would look at a parent's face, feeling their sorrow, knowing there would be no expensive toys under their tree this year, but no child would be forgotten.

But in this dream, he truly was Santa Claus, and he did travel millions of miles on Christmas Eve, jumping down chimneys and eating the cookies left for him, leaving behind every child's Christmas wishes wrapped with ribbons and bows. Some of the parents in line with their children were once the little ones sitting on his knee, not knowing that someday it would all come full circle.

In his dreams, Santa was as real as the long white beard, the red-and-white suit he wore with golden buttons and thread, the knee-high boots, and the sack that magically held thousands and thousands of presents he would deliver to children around the world. When he awoke from his dream, the tired old man brushed the snow from his suit and placed his boots next to the fire to dry. He went out to the barn and made sure his reindeer were well fed after an exhausting night, and with a touch to his red nose, the house and the elf factory vanished into the morning air, only seen by him and Mrs Claus.

I guess it wasn't a dream after all, just memories of Christmases already lived in another time, another place, when he made Christmas something magical. Dreams do come true if you just believe.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL WHO BELIEVE!       

Rocket Toboggan

 As a kid, the toboggan ramp made his throat tighten. To him, it rose like a mountain, promising speeds that seemed to break the sound barrier. He watched from below as people climbed the countless steps. The attendant released the brake, sending the toboggan racing down, kids screaming and adults clutching them, powerless as they flew down the hill.

His buddies called him chicken as they climbed the stairs time and again without serious injury, so, after reflecting on his young life, he somehow found the guts to join them up in the clouds. He took his place between his friends, so close together he couldn't breathe. And then, without sufficient notice, the break was released, and they went nose-first down the hill from hell. Faster and faster they went, trying to avoid others who lay scattered about the hill, waving to onlookers. Saying they were fine. Then, on one sharp turn, Billy tumbled off, followed by Davy, as the toboggan continued its course, heading straight for a patch of pine trees. Then the unthinkable happened when Sam rolled off, leaving him to pilot the deadly missile of doom on his own.

He maneuvered the wooden rocket through an opening in the trees, coming inches from being pierced by a branch and slowly losing speed as the tobogan came to rest just feet from a frozen pond. He lay there for a bit, then got up, waving his arms. All was well. He barely made out his friends waving him on to climb back up the hill. But his days of tempting fate were behind him, as was the toboggan he left for them to retrieve, as he headed for the safety and warmth of the family car, and a hot cup of cocoa.

Mike 2025