Since the holiday
season is coming, I thought it would be fun to revisit those long ago holidays
when gifts and food and holiday decorations were hand made. I still try to
create handmade gifts for my children and grandchildren – everything from games
and storybooks to body pillows and quilts. At one time, I would write short
stories and incorporate them into the Christmas cards I sent to family and
friends. As my holiday gift to you, here is one of those stories. Enjoy and
happy holidays.
SANTA
AND THE LUMBERJACKS
A Somewhat Tall Tale
A very long, long time ago, before
video games and 4-wheelers and even before television, families made each other
gifts for Christmas out of what was available to them. Mothers would make
patchwork quilts to keep the children warm at night, and fathers would carve
animals and toy tops out of small chunks of wood. Children would take scraps of
paper and make paper chains to hang around the house to give it a festive air.
On Christmas morning, Santa would leave each child a peppermint stick and
perhaps, if they were very good, an orange in their stocking.
But then one year, word reached
Santa that a late frost hit the orange orchards, destroying the blossoms and
there would be no oranges. Santa didn’t know what he would do for the children
he visited. As he walked home through the woods where he lived, he came across
a group of lumberjacks, sitting by the side of the road in tears.
Now Santa was a big, jolly man, but
lumberjacks were an even heartier group, and Santa had often seen them felling
trees with a single blow of an ax. The men were large enough that it only took
one of them to hoist a tree onto a wagon, or toss it into the river to float
downstream. So you can understand that seeing these huge men sniffling and
wailing was a trifle upsetting for Santa.
“What is wrong?” he asked the first
man.
“The forest has been sold; the mill
shut down,” the man said. He jerked a hanky out of his pocket that was larger
than a blanket and it landed on Santa, covering him from head to foot. As the
lumberjack dabbed at his eyes with one corner, Santa struggled out from under
the blue fleece.
“What are we to do?” shouted
another, stirring up such a wind it knocked Santa down and blew his hat right
off his head where it landed in the snow.
Santa was almost afraid to ask
another question.
“Are all of you lumberjacks? Can’t
you find other work?”
“I am the cook for the lumber
company,” answered a man with a strange looking metal pot on his head where a
cap would normally be. He held several spoons in one huge hand, and a mixing
bowl in the other that was gigantic enough for Santa to use as a bathtub.
Before Santa could say a word, yet another piped up.
“And I am Patch, for I mend the
clothes and tend the cuts for all the men who fell the trees.” Santa could
certainly see how the man got his name, for his clothes were a patchwork of
colors and patterns, and scraps of material stuck out of each and every one of
his pockets.
“Well, come along with me, and I
will take you home where Mrs. Claus will feed you some supper.” Santa had a
generous heart, and though he didn’t know how to find oranges for the
children’s Christmas this year, he did know that Mrs. Claus would welcome these
men into their home.
Mrs. Claus had just baked bread and
when she offered some to the hungry men, one lumberjack popped a whole loaf
into his mouth as though it were a gumdrop. Her eyes widened and she hurriedly
chopped another bushel of vegetables into the stew she was making. When it was
ready, she scooped hearty portions into her biggest pots for the hungry
lumberjacks, happy she had enough to feed them. But then they sat down on her
chairs and the legs broke under each and every one of the huge men.
Not wanting to be impolite, Mrs.
Claus smiled and asked them very nicely, “Would you mind standing up to eat?”
She then turned to Santa and
whispered, “They can not stay here, for the beds are too small and by morning
we would not have a lick of furniture left.”
Santa said the lumberjacks could
stay in the barn, but when they tried to go inside, only two of them would fit,
and only after they had knocked out the stalls for the mules.
“I will stay in the milk house,”
Patch said, laying large boards on top of the milk cans to make a bed.
“I will sleep in the tool shed,”
said Cook, opening the door. Before Santa could say a word, he began throwing
hoes and shovels, trowels and rakes out into the snow. Even empty, the shed was
not large, and as Santa walked back to the house, he saw that Cook’s feet stuck
out of the doorway. He would have to ask Mrs. Claus for an extra blanket.
*
* *
Santa woke up in the morning to an
incredible amount of racket. It was usually very quiet in the woods where he
and Mrs. Claus lived, and he couldn’t figure out what would make so much
pounding, sawing, hammering and whirring noise.
When he went outside to see, he
found the lumberjacks all at work. They had cut down trees (only the dead ones
as they were environmentally friendly), shaved off the bark and were whittling
dolls and hobbyhorses, toy trains and soldiers. Patch was sewing little clothes
for the dolls, and Cook had taken apart a mop and was using the string to make
manes for the hobbyhorses.
One of the lumberjacks, the tallest
and widest of them all, blushed as he explained the noise to Santa. “You were
so kind to give us food and a place to sleep. We heard you tell Mrs. Claus
there would be no oranges for the children this year, so we decided to make
them toys instead.”
“Why that is very nice of you,”
Santa replied, “but you have made so many.” He looked around the barn, where
dolls and toy soldiers sat in neat rows all along the hayloft. The hobbyhorses
were lined up along one wall, their faces comical as one lumberjack painted on
eyes and smiles. Though the lumberjacks were very large and two of them barely
fit in the barn, they had made all the toys just the right size for children.
“Ouch,” Patch cried when he forgot
and stood up straight, his head poking a hole right through the roof.
“I think we are going to have to
build a bigger workshop,” Santa stated. “One where you will not have to walk on
your knees or sleep with your feet sticking out the door.”
Not only did the lumberjacks make
toys and trains and hobby horses, they quickly built Santa a huge building tall
enough so all four could work inside and no one banged their head on the roof.
And thus began Santa’s Workshop.
*
* *
Christmas Eve came with a new layer
of snow all over everything to make the landscape white and glittering.
“I’ve made you a new coat to keep
you warm,” Mrs. Claus said, holding it up for Santa. “But Patch used all my
material, and even cut up the blanket for the toy soldiers’ coats, and so I had
only this red fur to use.”
Of course, Santa wasn’t about to
tell Mrs. Claus that he didn’t look good in red, so he allowed her to help him
into the coat, buckling a wide black belt around his middle to keep it closed.
The lumberjacks put all the toys
into gigantic bags and loaded them onto Santa’s wagon. Then they hitched the
mules to the harness. They stood beside Mrs. Claus and waved, their huge hands
causing the new snow to flurry about so much they couldn’t see Santa as he
drove out of sight.
Mrs. Clause only
hoped he would not drive the mules right off the road, for not only was there
no light to brighten the way, but Bessie, one of the mules, was blind in one
eye and really shouldn’t be out late at night. Thankfully, Santa only went to
the neighboring villages and farms, always getting home before dawn.
*
* *
Sleepy and tired from his night on
the road, Santa unhitched the mules and put them to bed in the barn. He dragged
his bag of leftover toys behind him as he walked to the house, hoping Mrs.
Claus would have a hot breakfast waiting for him.
When he opened the door, it was to
find Mrs. Claus crying, her apron full of tears and the floor awash with
puddles.
“What has happened?” he asked,
dropping his bag into the corner.
“They reopened the mill so the
lumberjacks have left!” she wailed.
“But you didn’t
care for the fact they broke your chairs and cut up your blankets and that
Patch put a hole in the roof of the barn with his head.”
“I know, and they ruined the tools
when they tossed them out into the snow,” she added to the list of grievances
against the lumberjacks.
“Then why are you crying now that
they have gone?” Santa shook his head.
“How will we make toys for the
children next year?”
“Well, perhaps I will have to get
apples if the orange trees fail again,” Santa said with a sigh.
“We can help.”
Santa thought Mrs.
Claus had spoken, though the words were much higher than her sweet voice. “I
know you will, dear,” he replied, patting her on the shoulder.
“I didn’t say anything. I thought
you had spoken,” she told him.
“Let us out. We want to help.”
A thumping sound came from the corner, and when Santa turned, he saw his bag
wiggling and bumping all over the floor.
“What on earth?” Mrs. Claus asked.
“The lumberjacks made so many dolls
and soldiers, I had some left over,” Santa replied as he carefully approached
the squirming, jumping bag. He pulled the tie that kept it closed. Out tumbled
the dolls in their patchwork dresses and the soldiers in their blanket
uniforms, all talking at once.
“We should make more trains and
bicycles to ride on.”
“And doll houses
to live in.”
“And games to play
like checkers and dominoes.”
Santa and Mrs. Claus were so surprised, they fell
into the only two chairs not broken by the lumberjacks. The small dolls and
soldiers, so very different from the huge lumbering men who had been there just
the night before, laughed and chattered happily.
“Well, we won’t
have to worry about anyone putting a hole in the roof with their head, now will
we?” Mrs. Claus asked.
“And even though
there are many more of them, I don’t suppose they will eat as much as the
lumberjacks, will they?” Santa said as he watched the dolls and soldiers
merrily dance around the room, still talking excitedly about all the toys they
wanted to make.
“If you make so
many trains and bikes and games and doll houses, how will I ever get them all
delivered?” Santa asked. “I went as far and wide as I could with my wagon and
mules, and still, I had all of you left over.”
The dolls looked
at the soldiers, and they all giggled.
“I think we had
better go outside for this,” said one soldier with red painted cheeks
and a button nose.
The soldiers
dragged Santa’s bag out into the yard. The dolls grabbed Santa and Mrs. Claus
by the hands and pulled and pushed them out onto the porch. It was just before
dawn and the glint of new fallen snow made everything glitter and twinkle like
a fairyland.
“Hurry, before
it’s too late,”
one of the dolls said. “The magic is almost over.”
As Santa watched,
two soldiers held the bag open and another went inside. He could hear whispers
and neighs and all kinds of noise as the bag jumped around and looked like it
was alive.
“Here they come!” a muffled voice
hollered from deep inside the bag.
The head of one
hobbyhorse poked out of the bag, followed by another and another. Where once
they had only a stick for a body, now they had four legs. As they emerged and
stood wobbling in the snow, they grew and grew and sprouted beautiful antlers
on their heads.
“Why, you’re
reindeer!” Santa exclaimed.
One of the
reindeer, whose nose was painted bright red, nodded, the bells on his antlers
jingling merrily.
“We can fly, too,” said one. “We’ll
make sure you’re on time to each and every child’s house on Christmas Eve,
delivering all the toys made by your…” The reindeer looked curiously at the
toys.
“We’re dolls.”
“We’re soldiers.”
“Hmm, we can’t
keep calling you that,” Santa said. “Let’s see. There are eleven of you.”
“Elvens,” repeated one of
the baby dolls who was just learning to talk.
“That’s it!” Santa exclaimed, his belly shaking with his laughter. “We’ll call you elves!”
So the story is told that thanks to the huge and hearty lumberjacks, Santa now has a workshop and a merry group of elves to help him make toys every year. And with the speed of the magical reindeer, Santa has time to deliver all those toys to good girls and boys all over the world.
If you love
holiday stories, I invite you to visit my page at Books We Love at https://bwlpublishing.ca/baldwin-barbara/
where I have three of them waiting for your reading pleasure. “If Wishes Were
Magic”, “Always Believe” and “Snowflakes and Kisses” are all available in both
ebook and print.
Barbara Baldwin
