In a humble house, near a piney wood, lived a widow and her children, doing the best they could. Though money was tight, their hearts were merry and bright, dreaming of Christmas, a season of light.
One summer’s day, near their front door, a pine cone tumbled onto the floor. The children cared for it with love and glee, watering it daily, dreaming of their Christmas tree.
Through the seasons it grew, standing tall and green, a sight of beauty, so serene. As Christmas drew near, their joy turned to tears, for there was no money for baubles this year.
No shiny jewels, no sparkling lights, no ornaments to brighten their nights. So to their beds, with heavy hearts they lay, dreaming of magic to brighten their day.
But little they knew, as they drifted to sleep, a tiny spider began to creep. Hearing their wishes, she spun her thread, weaving a wonder while they lay in bed.
Spinning and spooling, she worked through the night, crafting tinsel that shimmered in morning’s light. Silky and fine, it adorned the tree, transforming it into a sight to see.
When morning dawned, with its golden glow, the children awoke to a wondrous show. Webs that glittered in silver and gold, more beautiful than could ever be told.
The widow gasped, “Can this truly be, a miracle spun upon our tree?” The sunlight danced on threads so fine, turning their Christmas to something divine.
From that day on, their fortune would change, and every year after, they'd share the tale, of the spider whose kindness did prevail.
So if you find webs on your Christmas tree, remember the spider’s generosity. A gift of wonder, spun with delight, a symbol of hope on a magical night.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a bright night!