The eight-year-old girl looked wistfully out of the frosty window. Winter had come early this year this year of 1909, and the frigid temperatures kept Kaija from going out to the barn to visit her friend, Midnight.
The gentle black farm horse had helped the family pull stumps, and haul rocks, and plow the garden, and harvest the oats for many years. He was old and broken down, but to the blond-haired, green-eyed little girl he was the epitome of grace and power and beauty.
She was in heaven any time Isa would lift her up onto the sway back and let her ride the plodding animal around the little farm that the family had carved out of the north woods.
Her biggest concern on this day - once the chores were done of course - was that Midnight received his daily quota of carrots that she enjoyed feeding him as she talked to him and stroked his neck.
“Isa,” she asked her father as he came in the door from milking Eeva their cow. “How is Midnight? Did he get his carrots?”
“He’s fine, dearest. Did you help Aiti with the sugar cookies?”
“Yes, but Matti ate up half the cookie dough!”
The family was typical of many of the early Finnish immigrants who settled in Northern Minnesota.
The land they homesteaded was available because the timber had already been cut off and no other nationality of people was willing to work as hard for the meager return that this part of the earth offered.
After two hard years of clearing stumps and picking rocks, the successful Finns could boast of a small square timber house and barn, a cow, a horse, some chickens and a little oat field.
They cut their hay out of the natural hay swamps and planted their potatoes and rutabagas in any clear spot of ground they could find, seemingly as an afterthought.
Barter took the place of money in most cases, and what little cash was available was spread as far as possible by several neighboring families getting together and buying the necessary supplies in bulk, thus saving a few pennies.
Kaija’s family was entering their fifth winter in the New World and finally seemed to be establishing themselves in the community.
They lived on the south end of Birch Lake within walking distance of other immigrant families. As was the case with many other Finnish communities, most of the families came from the same general area of the “Old Country” and were therefore close-knit even before they reached America. They had the admirable trait of looking out for each other. It was this trait that was the basis for Kaija’s most memorable Christmas ever.
As the holiday neared, the weather seemed to worsen. The snow lay almost 40 inches deep in the woods and the nights were so cold that the freezing sap in the trees caused the bark to explode and sound just like rifle shots.
The ice on Birch Lake was thick enough that it took Isa almost 45 minutes to cut through to get water for the livestock. Most of the 13 chickens that the family had started the fall with had frozen to death.
To make matters worse, Isa had contracted pneumonia and most of the chores had to be taken care of by the rest of the family.
The day before Christmas dawned clear and cold. Isa had hoped that he could make his traditional rounds to the neighboring families, bringing some canned venison and raspberry jelly to those not as fortunate as they, and hauling wood in for Auntie Selmi.
As he rose from bed, he knew that he would be unable to go outside – let alone walk the miles necessary to complete the visits. No, there would be no Christmas rounds this year.
“I could go, Isa” said Kaija quietly.
“It’s too cold and hard a journey for such a little girl,” said her father.
“But someone must go” replied the Kaija. “And Matti is younger that I and must take care of the animals, and Aiti must take care of you!”
“But it is so far to walk,” Isa countered, “and the snow is so deep.”
“Yes, Isa. But Midnight could take me and he knows the way, too!” Kaija pleaded.
“The weather does look better, Papa” said Aiti. “And someone really should look in on Auntie Selmi.”
Finally, it was decided. Kaija was to take the old farm horse to the three nearest neighbors.
Pinola’s lived less that a mile away around the corner of the bay on the lake. Keskilla’s lived on the road toward Virginia, and Auntie Selmi lived north near the Bear Island River. If all went well, she should be back by early afternoon.
The first two stops went as scheduled. Both insisted that she have coffee and biscuit before she proceeded. As it would be impolite not to do so, Kaija enjoyed a bit of conversation and the products of the Finnish women’s ovens. One stop to go.
Auntie Selmi’s was the furthest house. She and her husband had immigrated to America when they were in their middle 50s.
The hard work of clearing the land took its toll and Selmi’s husband had died nearly three years before. They had been childless in their marriage and really was not an aunt to anyone here in America.
She loved children dearly and was so good to them when they came to visit that they all called her “Auntie” with affection. Kaija was looking forward to her visit most of all.
As Kaija and Midnight were passing by Perch Lake, the weather suddenly started to change. A cloud bank rolled in, and snow started to gently fall.
As she continued the snow came harder and harder until Kaija could not see where they were going. Midnight knew the way, however, and he marched along through the birches and balsams towards the river.
Finally, they reached the clearing where Auntie Selmi lived, and Kaija immediately sensed that something was wrong. No smoke came from the chimney and the steps leading into the house hadn’t been swept in many days.
As Kaija entered the dark house, the smell of sickness filled her nostrils. She searched through the three rooms of the house and could not find the old woman.
“Auttaisetteko minua.” Kaija heard the faint call for help but couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Help me, please!” Now she knew! It came from the cellar beneath the table. Kaija hurried to the trap door, opened it and peered into the darkness.
“There is a candle on the table,” came a weak voice.
Kaija found it and lit it and climbed down the steps into the cellar. The old woman had fallen down the steps into the cellar and had broken her hip. Disabled, Auntie Selmi had thought she would die in the darkness, alone and afraid.
Kaija set to work right away. Years later she could not recall how she was able to do it, but with much difficulty she half carried, half drug Auntie Selmi up the six steps and across the floor to her bed.
She started a fire and reheated the frozen soup that was left on the top of the cook stove. After getting the soup into the old lady, she made some coffee and cleaned Auntie Selmi up.
Selmi was in great discomfort, but her spirits were lifted considerably with the coming of the little Finnish girl.
All too soon Kaija realized that she was to be back home by now. Her parents would be worried. What could she do? Outside it was snowing so hard she couldn’t see across the little clearing that doubled as a yard.
“Midnight is my only hope” she thought.
“My friend, Isa has your carrots for you tonight. You must go home without me to get them. On your way!”
And with that she gave the horse a swat on the rump and he took off down the path.
“Auntie Selmi, what can I do now?”
“Dear child, you have done so much already for an old, crippled woman. All I need now is some sleep and your company for a while when I awake.”
As the old woman slept, Kaija tidied the house and started a meal for when Auntie Selmi would wake up.
Remembering it was Christmas Eve, she used what she could to decorate the house to remind them both of the holiday. Selmi slept all through the night and into the next day.
Midnight made it back to the farm just as darkness was settling in. The family was concerned before the horse arrived, but without the little girl on its back, they were terrified. The blizzard had worn the old stallion out and made it impossible for Isa to go out into the night.
Auntie Selmi finally awoke shortly after noon on Christmas Day. She was in considerable pain, but Kaija did her best to make her comfortable. The little house was actually quite cheerful with all the work that Kaija had done, and it warmed the old woman’s heart.
“I’m sorry I didn’t put up a little Christmas tree for you,” said Kaija “but I didn’t dare go out into the storm to look for one.”
“You have done well, my little one,” replied Auntie Selmi “and when I am better, I will promise you a Christmas tree every year that you come to visit me!”
Kaija comforted the old woman and a bond between them grew throughout the day. Auntie Selmi was as close to having a daughter of her own as there could ever be, and Kaija felt as close as if Selmi was really a favorite aunt.
The storm broke enough in the late afternoon that Isa was able to look for his daughter. He took Midnight out of the barn with a heavy heart, for he felt there could be no way his little girl could survive the night in the forest.
He packed warm blankets and bread and cheese, mounted the faithful old horse, gave him his head and swatted him on the rump. Midnight slowly took the path from the farm that led to the north. Isa let him continue, while he searched the sides of the trail.
“There is no way to find her. The snow is so deep.”
At last, Midnight reached the edge of the clearing at Auntie Selmi’s. Isa walked to the door to ask the old woman if possibly his little girl had stopped here the day before.
“Isa!” He could not believe his eyes or his ears when the door opened and Kaija was standing there! He swept her off her feet and hugged her for what seemed like an hour, tears coming from his eyes. Kaija was safe!
In the years that followed, Kaija spent many days helping Auntie Selmi. It took many months for her hip to heal and she always felt the weather long before it arrived. She lived another 12 Christmases. And, was true to her word, for whenever Kaija would visit Auntie Selmi for Christmas, her friend would have a special tree just for her.
“Kaija’s Tree, to remind her of that special Christmas and the friendship we have!”
Though Auntie Selmi is no longer alive, Kaija is often reminded of their closeness. A road known as Highway 21 now travels through the clearing where the house used to be. On special nights around Christmas, when Kaija is thinking of Auntie Selmi, a magical Christmas tree appears alongside the roadway.
Auntie Selmi is still keeping her promise.
