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Mrs Budd and the Christmas Tree

December cover

A Story for Chelsea Lee


Mr Budd was dressed up in his thick coat with a thick scarf wrapped around his throat. He wore woollen gloves knitted for him by Mrs Budd which warmed his hands like toast and he wore a knitted hat.


Mr Budd had just finished clearing the snow from his garden path. Even in the snow he had the finest garden in the street. Indeed it was the nicest garden in the village, the most lovely garden in the shire, said some, and the most beautiful garden in the country thought Mr and Mrs Budd.


A little robin with a poppy-red breast was perched on the watering can and the sun was just waking up after being asleep all morning. His first warm sunbeams were sparkling to life


It was Christmas Eve and Mr and Mrs Budd were waiting in the lane to catch the bus. They were going to do their shopping and to buy a Christmas tree for their village green in Oakapple.


The tired old bus steamed to a halt and it was packed with shoppers. Now it creaked and squeaked with its heavy load as it rolled around the winding narrow roads but soon it arrived in Oakwood.


Oakwood was the next large town and when the passengers got off the bus they could smell fresh bread and roasting chestnuts and could hear the calls from the market stalls. They could see pretty fairy lights hanging across the streets.


Mr Budd did not know whether he was coming or going the place was so crowded. The stalls were overflowing with holly and mistletoe, mince pies and fruit and crackers and nuts.


He was so busy watching excitedly he did not notice Mrs Budd slip into a shop and pick out a beautiful fork and trowel set for his Christmas gift. She hid the parcel in her bag and joined Mr Budd again.


They stopped and shopped and soon their bags were piled high with fruit, dates and figs, wine and puddings and pies. They walked up and down the market searching for a Christmas tree but everyone had sold out. Sadly they started to make their way home.


As they walked behind one of the stalls, on the floor in some rubbish Mrs Budd could see a tiny, poor, withered tree. She stooped down and picked it up, paid for it and then rushed to the bus as happy as could be.


Mr and Mrs Budd got off the bus outside the church and told the Vicar about the little tree but although he smiled his thanks, he thought about the tall trees they had in years gone by. They walked to the village green and planted it in the earth and then went home.


After supper Mr and Mrs Budd put on their best clothes and went to church. During the service Mrs Budd looked at all the children of the choir with their sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks. She thought of the little tree and quietly left and went home.


Mrs Budd now quite alone took from around her neck a ribbon on which hung a key. She unlocked a lock and found her special wand and a book. Mrs Budd was a witch, but the happiest, most gentle, most kindly witch you could wish to meet.


She took her wand and set off to the church. A little robin flew down on to the wand and chirped all the way to the village green. Mrs Budd tapped the tree with her wand and suddenly it grew and grew and grew.


She looked up and tapped the tree again and said a magic rhyme...... "Book of spells and wand and key weave your magic now for me."


Little coloured lights appeared and twinkled from the end of each branch and started to dance as gentle snowflakes fluttered down to fall on her nose, her head and her clothes.


The church doors opened wide and shafts of light shone warmly from the church to the village green and the villagers came out to see the finest, the largest and the most beautiful tree they had ever seen.


And only we know why, the robin, you and I.


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