A Merry Cookie Christmas | Way of life
His face and ungloved fingers shiny pink from the sting of a rising north wind, lobsterman Virgil Clark dipped his shoulder into it as he walked down the wharf. In his heavy rubber boots, he stomped to the small workplace on the tip of the city pier and threw open the creaky door.
“Hurry up. Get in right here, you dang idiot. You’re letting all the warmth out,” yelled Lyle the harbormaster, struggling to corral the papers whipping round on his desk. Placing one other stick of wooden in a pot-bellied range already glowing cherry crimson, Lyle spun round in his chair and regarded Virgil straight within the eye. “It’s gustin’ to 65 out the nor’west and the Coast Guard simply radioed from Southeast Harbor that they must cancel tonight’s Santa escort,” he mentioned.
“Whoa. I don’t assume that’s ever occurred afore,” Virgil responded.
For generations, everybody within the village on Little Blueberry Island joined collectively to welcome Santa on Christmas Eve. One after the other, households would comply with the city’s solely winding highway all the way down to the harbor, admiring all the vacation lights. They might collect within the outdated boat constructing store subsequent to the city dock and sing carols the place lights strung from an historic sailboat mast fashioned the form of a glowing tree.
As darkness fell, little ears would pressure to listen to the swelling drone of a throaty diesel engine as jolly outdated St. Nick arrived by lobster boat.
Together with scores of wrapped and ribboned presents straight from workshops on the North Pole, all the opposite items for the island’s dozens of kids, together with these from their households and pals, arrived on the identical boat. In such a small hamlet, with its tiny homes, three-room schoolhouse, modest church, and seasonal retailer and publish workplace, there’s no good place to cover items from inquisitive younger eyes. Holding every little thing in a single place on the mainland till Christmas Eve made excellent sense.
With only a few hours till sundown, Virgil’s coronary heart sank on the considered the island youngsters having a Christmas with no single current. “Properly, that’s not good, not good in any respect,” he mentioned, his thoughts racing about what he was going to inform his younger daughter Grace and her pals. “Guess I higher unfold the information,” he mentioned to Lyle.
It wasn’t lengthy earlier than the island’s party-line telephones have been buzzing. “There’s received to be one thing we are able to do. What about an airdrop?” requested Grace’s mother Lisa. “Nothing is transferring. Every part from Grand Manan to Damariscove is grounded,” little Silas’s mother Julia answered. “What are we going to do? What can we do?” she added.
Little Rylie’s mother JoAnne piped in. “I’ve at all times mentioned when the going will get powerful, the powerful get baking! What about cookies?”
“Cookies?” requested Julia.
“In fact, cookies,” Lisa replied. “I’ve received simply the recipe. Got here from my Aunt Audrey. My mother made them for us yearly.”
Inside half an hour, mothers, and a dad or two, from everywhere in the island shortly gathered up their shares of flour, sugar, butter, eggs, vanilla and different contributions and assembled within the kitchen of the church. The traditional percolator that had sat in the identical place on the again counter since astronauts first walked on the moon was stuffed with contemporary, clear water and heaps of fragrant espresso. With the flick of a cranky swap, {the electrical} outlet sparked and the pot sprang to life with a roar.
A manufacturing line was quickly in full swing as dough was ready, chilled, formed and reduce, rigorously laid out on large metal baking sheets, and slid into the ovens.
It didn’t take lengthy for the kitchen to be gentle and shiny from the heat of the stoves, the enjoyment of beneficiant hearts, and the spirit of giving and love which are the sweetest secret elements in any home made vacation deal with.
“What can we wrap them in?” requested JoAnne. “I feel there’s a roll of that brown craft paper left over from final summer season’s lobster bake round right here someplace,” answered Lisa. “There’s two further rolls of crimson ribbon we didn’t want for this 12 months’s wreaths within the higher cabinet,” Julia added.
Exterior, the wind shredded the tops of the incoming ocean swells into dancing flashes of white. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go. We’ve received to be all the way down to the boat home in lower than an hour.”
Even by means of the haze of sweet cane elation and scorching chocolate euphoria contained in the boat home, the children started to sense one thing wasn’t proper. It was already 5 o’clock and Santa often arrived no later than 4.
“Mother, I apprehensive Santa’s not coming,” Grace mentioned tearfully simply as a hush fell throughout the room. The kids stared at one another in disbelief, then regarded to their mother and father’ faces for reassurance that wasn’t there.
Certainly that might not be true. Certainly Santa was simply working late. Everybody is aware of that on Little Blueberry Island, like in every single place on the Maine coast, the tide ebbs and flows twice each 24 hours. All the time has, at all times will. And on Little Blueberry Island you may depend on Santa at all times, at all times, at all times arriving by lobster boat on Christmas Eve.
Profiting from the pause, Virgil stepped up on the steps to the sail loft and addressed the group. “Hey everybody. Hey. Pay attention up. I hate to be the one to let you know this, however Santa’s not coming tonight.”
The children set free a collective groan.
“It’s simply too harmful with the wind and the waves.” The faces of the youngsters grew longer and longer. Some eyes welled up with tears. “However,” mentioned Virgil, “I used to be down on the city float this afternoon and I found these,” he mentioned gesturing towards three giant wood lobster crates stacked towards the wall.
It was then the youngsters observed every had a shiny crimson bow. And there was a word written in fancy script. It mentioned, “To all the nice girls and boys of Little Blueberry Island.”
Grace and Riley have been the primary ones to run throughout the room, enthusiastic about what they could discover. “Mother, can we open it?” Grace requested. “Positive,’ mentioned Lisa. “Simply be sure everybody can see.”
Untying the ropes on the crates and swinging open to tops, the youngsters spied scores of brown paper packages, every drained with crosses of crimson ribbon. “This one has my identify on it,” Riley yelled with glee. “I received one too,” exclaimed Silas. In mere seconds, all of the packages have been torn open, revealing neat stacks of delectable treats.
There have been cookies within the shapes of Christmas timber and sweet canes. There have been angels and snowmen, Santas, snowflakes and stars. Some have been plain. Some have been sprinkled with crimson sugar crystals, others inexperienced. And a few had chocolate sprinkles or peppermint sweet cane chips.
“The place are these from?” one of many youngsters requested. “Humorous, it would not say,” Riley mentioned.
Nevertheless, one thing about the best way the cookies have been embellished precipitated Grace to pause. She had seen it earlier than. “Mother,” she mentioned after a pause. “These appear to be your Aunt Aubrey’s recipe. Did you make all these?”
“Really,” Lisa answered gesturing to the opposite adults within the room, “all of us did.” She continued, “We knew Santa couldn’t get right here so we did what we might on the final minute. We all know it’s not a lot.”
“Not a lot?” mentioned Grace. “This complete village got here collectively to do one thing that reminds us about how fortunate we’re to dwell in a particular group, and it doesn’t matter what, we at all times have one another. That’s received to be probably the greatest Christmas presents of all.”
A blast of chilly air from the open door preceded Harbormaster Lyle as he burst in to say that he simply received one other radio name. It regarded like a Coast Guard helicopter would be capable of make it out at very first thing within the morning. “Santa has assured me that he’ll depart all his presents with them they usually’ll convey those out of your households too,” Lyle mentioned to thunderous applause.
Turning to Grace, Silas mentioned, “I assume it’s going to be a Merry Little Blueberry Island Christmas in any case.”
She agreed. “Have a Merry Cookie Christmas Everybody!”
Aunt Audrey’s Swedish Butter Cookies
A recipe by Audrey Horsch Prouty, as shared by Lisa Horsch Clark
Sprint of vanilla, if desired
Cream butter and sugar then combine in flour. Divide into 4 sections and make 4 rolls 2.5 inches in diameter. Roll every in coloured sugar and refrigerate for a number of hours. Take away and slice ¼ inch thick and bake at 350 levels for seven minutes.
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