Carpenter Girl

As autumn settled in, things grew even harder. There was less work for her father, and the garden had yielded little. The meals became smaller, and the worry on her parents’ faces deepened.

 

One chilly afternoon, the girl went into the yard to gather the last few pumpkins that had grown near the fence. They weren’t much, but her mother could use some of them to make a simple stew. As she cut into one of the larger pumpkins, her knife caught on something hard. Puzzled, she split the pumpkin open and found, to her astonishment, a set of bright orange utensils inside—more vivid than anything she’d ever seen.

 

There were two tools: a scoop and a small, flimsy saw. Though delicate, they didn’t feel like they’d break easily, and something about them seemed special. The girl had no idea where they came from or how they ended up inside a pumpkin, but an idea sparked in her mind.

 

After mealtime, with the strange tools and a few of her own knives, she began carving intricate, swirling designs—patterns like the ones she had always etched into wood, only this time, she was working with the thick, bright orange flesh of the pumpkins. She hollowed them out, cutting small windows and arches. It was interesting and quite attractive to look at, but it needed something.

 

It was getting late, but she still wanted to work. She stood and went towards the candlestick on the table across the room and lit a candle but took pause before setting it back down. What if I placed this candle in the pumpkin? she thought to herself. She tiptoed over to the pumpkin with the candle in hand, placed it inside, and it came to life. The delicate designs let candlelight flicker through. The pumpkin radiated in patterns of lace-like shadows.

 

By the small hours of the morning, she had a quaint collection of these carved pumpkin lanterns. She hoped her mother would not fret about her using a few pumpkins that may have been used for food. However, the girl had a feeling these lanterns would provide comfort to their family this season. Unsure of what else to do with them, she brought them to her father’s shop later that morning after a small bit of rest and placed them near the window for passersby to see.

 

Later that day, as she worked in the back of the shop, she heard the door creak open and the sound of boots on the floorboards. Peeking through the curtain, she saw an older woman, wrapped in a heavy cloak, standing before the display of carved pumpkins.

 

The woman approached the counter, her eyes wide with admiration. “Who made these?” she asked, her voice full of wonder.

 

The girl stepped forward hesitantly. “I did,” she said, her voice quiet and calm.

 

“They’re beautiful,” the woman said. “I’ve never seen anything like them. How much for one?”

 

The girl’s heart raced. She had no idea what to charge, but before she could answer, her father stepped forward. “Two copper coins,” he said, with his gruff, yet kind voice.

 

Without hesitation, the woman placed the coins on the counter and picked up one of the lanterns. “I’ll just have to tell my sister about these,” she said with a smile, cradling the pumpkin in her arms as she left.

 

The girl watched the door close behind the woman, her heart swelling with pride. It was the first time her carvings had truly earned something for her family. She glanced at her father, who gave her a small, approving nod.

 

In the hours that followed, customers took notice. The strange, beautiful lanterns caught the eye of people walking by, and within a short time, she had sold all of them. As word spread, people came back, asking if there were more.

 

Realizing that her own garden was nearly bare, she ventured to the market to ask the nearby farmers for extra pumpkins they could spare. One farmer, seeing how desperate she was, agreed to trade some pumpkins in exchange for help at his stand. The girl eagerly accepted, spending her mornings working with the farmer and returning home with enough pumpkins to keep carving her lanterns. She also managed to find a few wild pumpkins growing on the edge of town, hidden near the fields. Bit by bit, she gathered enough to meet the growing demand.

 

Some wanted lanterns to place on their porches for the fall season, while others wanted them for festivals and celebrations. The designs, they said, were unlike anything they had seen before, and each week, they brought their friends who wanted the same. She even saw some people making their own, carving silly little faces into them, which gave her a faint, adoring smile.

 

Slowly, her father’s shop began to fill with customers again, and the extra money from the lanterns allowed them to scrape by. Though times were still hard, and they still had to be careful with what little they had, there was food on the table, and their home was warm for the coming winter.

 

The girl continued to carve her lanterns, sometimes late into the night, knowing that every small sale helped. She wasn’t sure where the strange utensils had come from, but they had given her the means to keep her family from falling into despair.

 

As the first snow fell, the family sat around their humble table, sharing a modest meal of bread, soup, and a bit of roasted pumpkin they had left over. The girl smiled quietly to herself, thinking of the bright orange utensils hidden away in a small box under her bed. They had not solved all her family’s troubles, but they had brought enough light into their lives to keep them going.

 

And as the winter deepened, the girl kept carving, always with hope that her hands, guided by her imagination, could continue to shape something beautiful out of the smallest, most unexpected things.