A Short Christmastime Story from Little Red Bear’s World

INTRODUCTION —

There is a certain way winter settles over Honey Hill — not with fanfare, but with a soft hush, as though the whole forest is catching its breath before Christmas.

On mornings such as this, Little Red Bear likes to take an early stroll, merely to wander through the quiet and listen to what his heart might be trying to tell him before the day unfolds. And every now and then, something small and unexpected offers a gentle reminder of the kindness still humming through the hollers.

This little story is one of those moments — a simple winter vignette featuring a neighbour you’ll soon be seeing more of in our Hearth & Holler Gazette.

“The Lantern in Clara Thimblewick’s Window”

by James Milson

A soft snowfall had drifted through Honey Hill in the night, leaving the world brushed in white. The morning felt quieter than usual — the sort of quiet that invites you to walk slowly and listen. Little Red Bear bundled up for his stroll and stepped outside, his breath rising faintly in the frosty air.

As he came round the bend near the edge of town, a warm glow caught his eye. There, in the window of Clara Thimblewick’s cottage, a lantern flickered against the early dawn.

It surprised him. Clara was an early riser, yes, but the lantern wasn’t usually lit so long after the sun had pushed up over the ridge. Little Red Bear paused a moment, then decided to stop in — just to make sure everything was all right. Kindness, after all, begins with paying attention.

Clara opened the door before he could even knock fully.
“Well now, Red,” she said, her smile warming the morning even more than the lantern’s glow, “aren’t you a sight of winter cheer.”

“I saw your lamp burning,” Little Red Bear replied, “and thought I’d better check on you to make sure everything is okay.”

“Oh, that,” she said, waving a gentle hand. “Every year when the days get short, I keep a lantern in the window. A bit of welcoming light can make a world of difference for someone lost and wandering in the cold.”

They chatted for a few minutes — nothing urgent, nothing dramatic — just neighbourly warmth shared over the doorway. Before Little Red Bear turned to leave, Clara reached for a neatly folded scarf from a basket near the stove.

“Take this along,” she said, reaching up and slipping it over his shoulders before he could protest. “I made extra this year. Winter is too long a season not to keep someone else warm when we can. You really should dress warmer when you are out in this cold, Red.”

Little Red Bear thanked her — though he insisted he already had a perfectly good scarf — and set off down the snowy path again, the new one settling warmly around his shoulders as he walked.

Halfway home, Little Red Bear paused beside an old fencepost overlooking the lower meadow. The wind, cold and steady now, was picking up across the open stretch. Little Red Bear thought about Clara’s lantern burning in the window, and how she had lit it not for herself, but for anyone else who might need to feel its glow.

Carefully removing the scarf from around his neck, Little Red Bear tied it gently around the fencepost, letting its soft red wool flap a little in the breeze. Maybe someone would come along who needed it more than he did, he thought. Perhaps a traveller, or a creature searching for a warmer night to shelter from the cold.

Kindness, he remembered, has a way of echoing. And Clara would like that, he figured.

Little Red Bear took one last look at the splash of red flapping in the breeze against the snowy field, and then headed home, feeling even a little warmer now.

Closing Reflection — 

It’s not always the grand gestures that make a difference, is it? More often than not, it’s the small, everyday kindnesses — a lantern in the window, a warm word at the door, a scarf left for the next passerby — that help us feel less alone in the world. As we move nearer to Christmas, may we each find simple ways to brighten the path for someone else. Sometimes that’s all the season asks of us. And we can certainly do that for someone, can’t we?

Little Red Bear and I hope Clara’s lantern brought a touch of light to your day, and that a bit of warmth follows you along your own winter path. From our little corner of Honey Hill to yours, Little Red Bear and I wish you warmth, kindness, and a peaceful path as Christmas draws near. Thanks for settin’ a spell with us today.

— Jim (and Red!)

You’ll be seeing more of Clara Thimblewick soon — she has a gentle way of adding light to the hollers, and we’re excited to feature her in an upcoming Hearth & Holler Gazette story next week.

And if you’re wandering back through Honey Hill next week, Little Red Bear and I hope you’ll join us again on Tuesday, December 16th. We’ve got a special birthday post waiting — and we’d sure love to share it with you.