Tucker and Our Tree

When you live in Oysterville, it’s hard not to believe – I mean really, flat-out BELIEVE – in the world of magic and fairy dust and happily ever after.  Just as I knew without question, when I was a kid, that my toys came alive at night, I know without question now that there are real, live elves of the Shoemaker’s variety who do things for others just to be kind.  They aren’t wee folk and they don’t have pointy ears or shoes that curl up at the toes.  They look like you and me but they seem to swoop in among us effortlessly at the exact moment when needed.

Topless in Oysterville

Yesterday morning the elf was named Tucker Wachsmuth which, when you come to think of it, is quite a proper sounding elf name.  He came to our house with a saw and loppers and in less than five flat minutes had our eleven-foot Christmas tree cut into chunks and was hauling it out to our burn pile.  Wow!  I think Nyel and I would have been looking at that Christmas tree until Easter.  Maybe even until the Fourth of July!

Chef Erik

And last night, here came the Dinner Elves – Pat and Erik Fagerland.  It was pork roast in a crock pot with peppers (the mildly hot variety) and ‘other stuff’ served with fluffy Basmati rice.  All we needed to supply were dishes and utensils.  Abracadabra – just like that, dinner for four was on the table.  Fabulous cooks, these elves, and with a way to make you laugh and forget your troubles.

Pat Dishes Up

And how about Maggie Stuckey, our transportation elf who got Marta to the airport in Portland when I needed to be at the hospital with Nyel? And here she came to the Peninsula on Wednesday, calling to share a pizza and offering to do ANYthing.  Or, how about the elves from ‘out there’ who telephone now and again – checking in, offering to shop, to pick up our mail, to bring a rotisserie chicken or a hug!  Which only goes to prove that the Elfen Kingdom extends out from Oysterville in all directions.

The stipulation, of course, is that you must believe – in the goodness of people, in happy endings and in all the other trappings of magic.  When you live in Oysterville, the believing is a given.