Read by Michael Flamel

The mid-December morning broke clear and crisp, the landscape covered in hoarfrost and a light overnight dusting of snow made it a Winter wonderland. With the early morning sunrise providing a pale pink glow – this was, indeed, a perfect Christmas card, for sure. It was as if we were in a giant snow globe.

Upon reaching the greenhouse, which by the way we named “la palapa,” I was pleased how beautiful the rimed evergreen wreath looked on the door, but I also noticed the door was unlatched.

“Well, that was careless, Steve, ole boy,” I muttered. “Just another senior moment – I’ve got to be more careful,” hoping, in fact, that it was I who had performed the misdeed.

Nothing seemed to be disturbed. The amaryllis and Christmas cactus were in full bloom, as were the Bethlehem sage, and I noticed, to my surprise, that the flats of bada bing and bada boom begonias – seeded just two weeks ago – were already breaking soil. Everything was just as it should be, except it seemed a couple of the tomatoes from the dwarf bush were missing. Looking down to see if they had fallen off, there seemed to be small footprints of melted snow on the floor of the greenhouse, perhaps only 6 inches long – ah, a neighbor kid wanted a treat. Must have been up awfully early, although that wasn’t part of their normal routine – ya know, getting up early.

I watered everything and puttered around – toying with this and that, the usual things one does when owning a greenhouse. It is always fun to be in a greenhouse full of flowers and greenery and looking outside to the chill and the whiteness. Earlier I had checked on the vegetables, black-seeded Simpson and red sails leaf lettuce and radishes coming along perfectly fine, that along with spinach, green onions, and carrots from the mulched outdoor raised beds, protected by a row cover of Reemay and heated with a 60-watt incandescent bulb, will provide a wonderful Christmas salad.

Exiting la palapa, I was again struck by the uncommon beauty provided by Mother Nature and Jack Frost – my, they were busy last night. The chickadees, sparrows, nuthatches, and house finches were having a field day, flitting busily between the suet cakes, thistle seed sock, sunflower seed feeder, the Tannenbaum mugo pine, the dead and brittle black leaves of the black-laced elder, and a North Star spruce. What a show! Then, to my great surprise, I noticed a cardinal, red as all get out, no three, no five or more – lord, what a glorious sight. Never, ever have I seen a cardinal here in Colorado, let alone in Winter. This makes the Christmas card picture even more perfect than before. But cardinals, what in the world are they doing here? Now here come several goldfinches, while not uncommon in Summer – never, ever in Winter. Now this was something else again, and so off I went to fetch my camera.

Upon entering my most humble abode, I told Kathy, the “boss” of the manor, she needs to see this and she mumbled something about not having the right kind of shoes on. I stated as firmly as I dared.

“Honey, that’s an easy fix – you just have to see this once-in-a-lifetime event,” I said.

She relented and donned a pair of Minnetonka moccasins she calls “Moosies” because she bought them in Grand Lake, moose country, high in the Rockies, threw on a fleece, and out the door we went with camera in hand.

There they were, but now joined by blue jays, western tanagers, and northern orioles – what an unbelievable sight. I took about 20 shots and was confident I had some good ones. I wondered out loud, “What possibly could have caused all these birds to come to the Denver area in December?”

“A solar flare might have screwed up their sense of direction,” I added without really having a clue, “or a big wind.”

“Maybe Santa sent them,” Kathy remarked offhandedly.

I turned and stared at her.

“Yeah, maybe Santa – geez, Kath, this is something remarkable, don’t you think?” I said earnestly.

She smiled and replied. “Yes, dear, I do.”

I downloaded the photos as soon as possible and sent them to ornithologists listed by the American Union. I wanted some answers and, who else would know more beside the pros. Those pictures were just remarkable, especially with all those colorful birds against the backdrop of a nearly all-white landscape, but why here, why Denver? After sending 6 photos to 5 different bird pros, I decided it was now time to fetch and read the morning paper.

The same Winter wonderland greeted me as I went out the front door, and I immediately noticed someone had lined the driveway with large straight candy canes and they were, let me see – yes, real. I’ve been decorating the outside of the house for many years and this year I had put up over 5,000 miniature lights of mixed and solid colors on the house and plants. We always get a lot of compliments, and I have to say the candy canes were a marvelous addition. But who – who did this and when and why? Looking up and down the street offered no hints to solve this enigma. Although, I did notice that someone had festooned strings of popcorn and cranberries around the Winterthur viburnum, American cranberry, ivory halo dogwood, and St. Mary’s broom spruce. Looking closer, I noted they were also bedecked with spiced oranges and small candy canes.

I then noticed those same small footprints in the snow, well now – that is curious. In the greenhouse, I wasn’t sure because I could have messed up the tracks with my own snowy boots. But, there was no doubt now. No one has been in the new dusting except – who or what?

I took additional pictures now, for my own edification. Now, here was an exceptional find in an area between the red beauty holly, king’s ransom grape holly, amethyst snowberry, and blue star juniper – all bedecked with small red, green, and white candies – a small red leather mitten with white furred inners and the green initials SCEC sewn on the back. “SCEC, SCEC, SCEC – what the hell can that stand for?” I muttered. “SCEC!!”

“Kathy, look what I found?” I yelled as I opened the door “Look, look – look at this.”

“Lord, want to wake the dead?” Kathy deadpanned. “What is it?”

“I found this – a mitten, I said.

“Whoopee do, that should make your day,” she added.

“But honey, I also found lots of small footprints, and the front yard has a whole lot of new decorations, all new since last night,” I stressed.

Although not from Missouri, she chimed, “Show me.” Back to the front yard, we ventured out to the footprints. We noted that they didn’t seem to start or end, they just show up. “SCEC,” she mumbled. Cautiously, we tried a candy, “My God, is that good or what,” we praised in unison. SCEC, hmmm. We used up several pages from a yellow tablet trying to come up with an answer to SCEC. No luck – they include South Carolina Electric Company. Another was Security Counsel European Committee or Special Creation Essay Contest – none of them made much sense. Kathy did write down Santa Claus Experimental Clause. But probably the best was Senior Committee for Elderly Causes, but if that was true why such a small glove?

Then there was a light knock at the front door – peering out the peephole, I saw nothing. Upon opening the door, I saw nothing – at first, then looking down saw this strange little – well, little man. Diminutive would be a better term and, he was dressed in rather strange and brightly colored garb for Denver or anywhere else for that matter. He had a white pipe, and smoke encircled his head.

“May I help you?” I asked.

He replied with a slight accent which I couldn’t recognize. “Quite possibly, my good man, quite possibly.”

He was the size of a child, but his features and voice were not childlike, especially considering the facial hair. Kathy now came to the front door to view this unusual sight.

She politely asked the gent, “Would you like to come inside?”

We sat in the living room, and we asked if he’d care for a cup of coffee and he said, “I’d actually prefer some hot chocolate if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” Kathy said brightly. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

We sat there in an odd silence until Kathy returned with the refreshments, which included some cookies.

“Oh, thank you so much, and cookies too – I love cookies, and I am a bit spent.” After another fractured pause, I finally asked, “Is there something we can help you with?”

Kathy added, “Would you like to use the phone?”

“No, no, nothing at all except that I – well, I believe I lost something, in your yard, he stated very sincerely.

I looked at Kathy as she turned to me. “It wouldn’t be a leather mitten, would it?” we chorused.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it would,” he replied with a slight hint of embarrassment. We produced the mitten, and his smile was broad and very white.

Excitedly, he piped, “Yes, that’s it, oh yes, that’s it!”

We presented him the mitten.

He said, “Oh, thank you, thank you oh so very much – it is sooo important to me, thank you, thank you so much. I hate to run, but I really have to go as I am very late.”

As he was leaving, Kathy inquired as to the initials and what they meant.

He replied proudly, “Santa Clause Elf Corp and only the elite elves are asked to become members.”

Then he added, “Santa himself selects the members and honors each with specially made mittens made by Santa himself.”

Then he was gone, just like that – gone.

We looked at each other in stark disbelief and muttered “SCEC.” Shutting the door, we began to laugh and rued the fact that we hadn’t asked why our house was chosen for their decorations.

But, come Christmas morning, there was a strange package under the tree, Kathy carefully unwrapped it and inside we found two pairs of leather mittens with the initials HSCEC on the back. The enclosed note read:

Thank you so much for the hot chocolate and cookies.
The ‘H’ stands for Honorary and the mittens were made
especially for you by Santa. By the way, your house was
chosen to be decorated because you always hold
Christmas in a special place in your heart.
“Merry Christmas”

And thanks for everything
Your personal elf,
Edgar

We looked at each other and hugged as tears began to well up in our eyes, “Merry Christmas, Sweet Pea,” I said.

She said, “Merry Christmas, Honey Boy.” ❖

About the Author: Steve Aegerter is not just a landscape designer but also a storyteller extraordinaire from Denver, Colorado. With a passion for gardening and a knack for spinning whimsical tales, he brings a touch of magic to every narrative. When he’s not tending to his plants or crafting captivating stories, you can find him wandering through nature, seeking inspiration for his next adventure.