Oskar, the Christmas Tree Elf: A Christmas to Remember

Chapter 1: To Grandma's House

It was Christmas Eve. Emma Foster and her family were getting ready for their trip to Grandma's house. Emma sat on the front steps reading a book about Christmas traditions. She'd already learned so much about Christmas that she'd never known before, and she was excited to find out what this Christmas would have in store for her.

"Emma, Luke, get your things in the car. We need to leave in five minutes. Grandma is expecting us for lunch," said Sue. "Brad, did you load the trunk?"

"Yes, everything's ready to go," he said with a wink. To keep the wrapped gifts hidden from Emma, he had packed them into two large brown boxes before quietly loading them into the car.

"Mom, can we bring Gus?" asked Emma. The cat was wandering around the front of the house, fascinated by the bustling activity.

"No," said Sue. "The cat can stay home."

"But Mom!" said Luke, Emma's older brother. "We can't leave Gus home alone again this Christmas! Can we bring him? Please?"

"Absolutely not! Two years ago he almost knocked down Grandma's Christmas tree when he was chasing a mouse or something. He's not going!"

Emma pouted and looked up at her dad with sad eyes.

"Ah, Sue," said Brad. "Let the kids have their cat. I'm sure he's learned his lesson after having to spend last Christmas home alone."

Sue looked down at the cat and then up at the clock. "All right, all right!" Emma threw her arms around her mom in delight. "Luke, get Gus into the car. And don't forget to bring his food! Now hurry up, or we're going to be late."

Minutes later, the Fosters were packed into the car and driving down their quiet Portland street. They headed for the I-5, toward Grandma Krupzer's Christmas tree farm in Northrup. As they travelled down the freeway, Emma stared out the window at the endless pines that lined the side of the road and tried to imagine each one as a Christmas tree.

"Mom, I want to help cut down the Christmas tree this year," said Emma.

"You're a girl," said Luke with a laugh. "Cutting down trees is man's work."

Sue turned around in her seat and looked at Emma. "You can ask your grandfather when we get there," she said.

Once they exited the freeway they drove into Northrup, where they passed hundreds of acres of Christmas tree farms, occasionally seeing fields of stumps left behind from this year's harvest. "Mom, did you know that Oregon grows more Christmas trees than any other state in the country?" asked Emma. "My teacher told us that Oregon has 50 million Christmas trees and they harvest over five million each year and they plant two seedlings for every tree they cut. There are 21,000 family tree farms in America and 2,000 in Oregon."

"That's a lot of information," said Sue.

"How long has grandma owned the farm?" asked Emma.

"Grandma's father moved here from Maine in 1921," replied Sue. "He bought 40 acres here in Northrup, right where Grandma's house is. Since then the farm has kept growing, and now Grandma and Grandpa have almost 1,000 acres. It's one of the biggest tree farms in the county."

"Mom, did you know that one acre of Christmas trees produces enough oxygen for 18 people?" asked Emma.

"Enough with the facts," said Luke. "Why don't you write an article for Wikipedia?" he scoffed.

"Are we going to own the farm some day?" asked Emma.

"Who knows?" said Sue. "Grandma owns it because none of her six older brothers or sisters wanted to be a farmer. She and Grandpa Dan took care of my grandparents after they retired and they've managed the farm for the last 30 years. They even bought out the interests of all my aunts and uncles, so now they own the farm free and clear. Since I'm their only child, we could own the farm someday. That is, if your Dad wants to become a Christmas tree farmer." She looked over at Brad and they both chuckled.

"We'll see," said Brad. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that I married into your family with all its warm Christmas traditions. My family was so dysfunctional I never enjoyed Christmas until the first one I spent with your family. But maybe Luke will want to be the Christmas tree farmer."

"Can I be a farmer?" asked Emma.

"You're a girl," said Luke, "and a runt, too! Everyone knows girls can't be farmers!"

"They can too," protested Emma, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Grandma was a girl."