The Wood-Carver's Christmas Tale

A Wood-Carver’s Christmas Tale is a heartwarming holiday tale of wonder where stories are carved into miracles.

 Set in the quaint town of Örebro, Sweden, during the nineteenth century, A Wood-Carver’s Christmas Tale unfolds.

 Nils Kindberg, a renowned wood-carver, is known not only for his intricate creations but also for the stories he receives from his Creator. When he is tasked with crafting a Christmas gift to help a sick little girl, Nils seeks inspiration from above, aiming to bring hope to the family.

 Anders Dahl, a humble and kind-hearted woodsman, spends his days cutting wood and caring for animals at his cabin in northern Sweden. When a stranger arrives at his cabin with an urgent problem, Anders seeks advice from his Father. Will the woodsman hear the perfect plan to aid the stranger in the months leading up to Christmas?

 Join a tentative chickadee, a cat the color of sunshine, a terrier always on a mission, and more charming animals as they witness beautiful acts of generosity and kindness that point to the true meaning of the Christmas season.

 Let these big-hearted characters create a timeless holiday tradition for your family, reminiscent of the spirit of Dickens. May reading this tale aloud become a cherished gift passed down for generations to come.

Clara

As a kitten, I often felt out of place in my litter of five. All my siblings shared the same calico coloring as our mother, while I was plain yellow and white. I couldn’t help but feel different, like I didn’t quite belong.

“Darling, yellow tabby cats are like sunshine,” Mother reassured me. “They are very special. You will see.”

As we grew up, I found those words a great comfort, especially as each of my siblings showed their prowess on the farm while I struggled to even catch a mouse. After yet another failed attempt to corner a wily vermin, my mother sat me down.

“Let me tell you a story about Frau Ackerman, the farmer’s wife."

Excerpt from "The Wood-Carver's Christmas Tale."

Tucker McGinty

Before the goose could respond, I picked up the dirt-covered herring and ran for the cabin.

Due to my superior agility and sense of direction, the trip didn’t take long. When I approached the cabin from the south, Anders was sitting in the chair outside, Clara in his lap.

“You’re back,” Clara said, licking her paws.

I dropped the fish at Anders’s feet.

“What’s this?” He picked up the fish. “A herring. So the girl is at a fishing village. I checked the ones to the north of Söderhamn. I didn’t realize there was anyone in the southern one. Well done, Tucker!” He patted my head. “Can you take me there tomorrow?”

I yipped my agreement, and Anders walked into the house, humming softly.

“So you kept up with the girl?” Clara said. “I was sure you would lose her in the woods.”

“Of course I kept up! The rough terrain drove me up and down like a fiddler’s elbow, but I am trained for reconnaissance. I found out where she lives and much more. 

Excerpt from "The Wood-Carver's Christmas Tale."

Pip

I hopped onto the branch and surveyed the area around the pile. Father’s warning about predators went off in my mind. Only ninety-two days old, I took his advice seriously and flew past the tray several times, but there was no movement. I went through Father’s checklist: cats, birds of prey, humans. None of those predators to be seen, I slowly flitted down to the tray.

It held a generous amount of pine, cypress, and fir seeds, along with juicy juniper berries. I began carrying them one by one to my new cache, a knothole high in a conifer tree.

After several trips, I stopped to nibble on a pine seed and, out of the corner of my eye, spotted a woodsman carrying an axe and a tin pail. 

Excerpt from "The Wood-Carver's Christmas Tale."

Grendela

Grendela looked Anders up and down. “Do you think the cur is right that this Anders can help the girl?”

Tucker turned around with a huff. “Of course he can! We just need silence to be able to figure out a plan, so shush up.”

“Don’t you be rude to me, mutt,” Grendela said.

While the goose and dog bickered, a boat had come to shore. 

Excerpt from "The Wood-Cutter's Christmas Tale."

Siv

I already knew that most North Swedish draft horses didn’t have a keeper like mine. Anders looked like all keepers in the north country—tall, light brown hair, and blue-eyed. But that was where his similarities ended. Anders knew that no horse was meant to be owned. We’re not like goats who give milk for drinking or chickens who lay eggs for eating. We work alongside the keeper as a partner of sorts, and if there is rhythm between the horse and his counterpart, the teamwork makes the workload lighter.

After hauling several logs to the cabin, I shook my long mane from my eyes and joined Tucker McGinty in watching Anders prop a log between two smaller stumps. 

Excerpt from "The Wood-Carver's Christmas Tale."

Kola

I stood by my mother in our pen, staring at the weeping girl who, just moments ago, had been playing with me. “Momma, why is the girl so sad?”

“She doesn’t have a mother,” Momma replied.

Excerpt from "The Wood-Carver's Christmas Tale."