#magic pumpkin

And so, to please the woodpecker – and some of his friends on tumblr who expressed a wish to see him do the tap-away (and who Algy rather suspected thought he couldn't do it…) – Algy hopped up onto a branch as night was falling, and commenced to tap away by the light of his magical pumpkin lantern, singing:

“I just flapped away And I tapped away I went this-a-way A bit up-a-way And then that-a-way. I spent half the day Over there a way; So the folk all heard ’Bout the fluffy bird And came this-a-way Doing the tap-a-way…"

[Algy is singing - and performing – a passage from his children's chapter book The Magical Midwinter Star, which will be reissued with a new cover in paperback this coming weekend, 14th/15th December 2024 and is currently available as a Kindle e-book.]

Algy was so exhausted from his aerial battle with the storm that although he had nothing but the freezing, snow-covered ground for a bed, he slept late the next morning, curled up around his magic pumpkin, which had been so miraculously preserved, despite his conviction that he had dropped it during his arduous flight.

In fact, Algy slept very late indeed… so much so that he could only fly onward a short distance on the next day before the dim midwinter light began to fade into dusk once again.

But as Algy came in to land, and rested on the ground beneath a tree, before settling onto a more suitable perch for the night, it seemed to him that the fading landscape looked strangely familiar. He felt rather excited, but knew that he would have to be patient and wait until the next day, for it would shortly be dark once again, and there was no time left to explore before nightfall.

As he looked up at the sky he guessed that it might very possibly snow again before long, and when a local buzzard mewed overhead as it made its way home for the night, Algy was reminded of a poem, and wondered whether there could indeed be another storm on the way:

No hawk hangs over in this air: The urgent snow is everywhere. The wing adroiter than a sail Must lean away from such a gale, Abandoning its straight intent, Or else expose tough ligament And tender flesh to what before Meant dampened feathers, nothing more. Forceless upon our backs there fall Infrequent flakes hexagonal, Devised in many a curious style To charm our safety for a while, Where close to earth like mice we go Under the horizontal snow.

On the next morning, Algy had an unusually bright idea. If the post bird could deliver his book to him in the forest, then the post bird could also take it away for him, for it was too heavy for him to carry in addition to his magic pumpkin lantern, and he was loath to leave it behind to rot.

But even more importantly, Algy suddenly realised that the post bird must know the way back to his home, for it had to know the entire area by heart in order to make its deliveries, and all the creatures knew that it rarely if ever went astray.

Greatly heartened by this thought, Algy made his way out of the dense growth of the forest – albeit with some difficulty as he had to carry both book and pumpkin and was therefore unable to fly – and settled down at the base of a gnarled old tree to wait until the post bird should happen to pass by.

Algy had no idea how long he would have to wait, however, so he tried to relax, despite the cold, damp sensation that was bothering his tail feathers, and passed the time by attempting to recall poems he had read on the subject of waiting. He could hardly say that he felt serene… If truth be told, he felt cold, damp, impatient, and rather anxious, as he didn't know whether his plan would actually work out. But as he liked the poem he had remembered, he recited it quietly to himself, alone in the snow, for there was not another living soul in sight to hear it…

Serene, I fold my hands and wait, Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea; I rave no more ‘gainst time or fate, For lo! my own shall come to me. I stay my haste, I make delays, For what avails this eager pace? I stand amid the eternal ways, And what is mine shall know my face. Asleep, awake, by night or day, The friends I seek are seeking me; No wind can drive my bark astray Nor change the tide of destiny. What matter if I stand alone? I wait with joy the coming years; My heart shall reap where it has sown, And garner up its fruit of tears. The law of love binds every heart And knits it to its utmost kin, Nor can our lives flow long apart From souls our secret souls would win. The stars come nightly to the sky, The tidal wave comes to the sea; Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high Can keep my own away from me.

It was Christmas Eve at last, and Algy was safe at home again!

He couldn't have been more happy, or more excited, for his assistants had given him a fluffy stocking to hang up, in the hope that Father Christmas might visit while he slept, and his magic pumpkin, which was beginning to look quite shrivelled, had turned into a beautiful pumpkin candle once more.

Algy settled down on the soft needles of a Christmas tree with his stocking hanging by his side, and did his best to go to sleep, but he found it awfully difficult… He was just too excited! So he tried reciting that most famous of all Christmas poems, written 200 years ago. He hoped that if he recited it very carefully and very slowly it might help to make him drowsy, for he knew that Santa Claus never visited folk who were wide awake:

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse: The stockings were hung by the chimney with care In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, When, what to my wondering eyes did appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: “Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!” As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.