Windsor Plywood French Creek: The Pulse Community Podcast is brought to you in part by Windsor Plywood in French Creek, specializing in hard-to-source interior and exterior home finishing products, including flooring, doors and mouldings, and exterior project materials such as yellow cedar. Windsor Plywood French Creek carries high-quality, responsibly sourced products and is committed to providing outstanding value and personalize one-on-one service to all of our customers: homeowners, do-it-yourselfers, renovators, builders, designers, craftsmen, and contractors. Regardless of the type or size of your project, Windsor can help you bring your vision to life from start to finish. Let Windsor Plywood in French Creek help you with your renovation, new build, or building project. Visit them online or call 752-3122.

The Ballad of Peter & Gracie: Peter and his dog raced here and there, through fields so wide, with dreams in their pockets and stars as their guide. Every day's an adventure under the open sky. In their world of stories, time just flies by.

Peter McCully: Peter pressed his nose against the cold window, watching snowflakes dance in the yellow glow of the streetlight. Tomorrow was Christmas. His breath made foggy clouds on the glass, and he drew a little Christmas tree with his finger. "Gracie, look," he whispered to his best friend, a fluffy white American Eskimo dog who was curled up on his bed.

"It's snowing even harder now." Gracie lifted her head, her pointy ears perked up at the sound of Peter's voice. Her thick, snow-white fur made her look like a little polar bear, and her dark eyes sparkled with curiosity. She padded over to Peter, her fluffy tail wagging like a feather duster. "You know what, Gracie?" Peter said,

scratching behind her ears the way she liked. "Tonight's the night. We're finally gonna meet Santa Claus." Gracie tilted her head and made a soft "woof," as if asking, "Really?" Peter had been planning this for weeks. Every year he tried to stay awake to see Santa Claus, but every year he fell asleep. Not this time. This year,

he was seven years old, practically grown up, and he had Gracie to help him stay awake. "Mum and Dad are already asleep," Peter whispered, tiptoeing to his bedroom door and peeking down the hallway. The house was quiet except for the gentle tick-tock of the clock downstairs. "Come on, girl. Let's go set up our Santa-watching station."

Together, they crept down the stairs, being extra careful to skip the creaky third step from the bottom. Peter had learned that trick after many midnight trips to get water. Gracie's nails clicked softly on the wooden floor, but she seemed to understand they needed to be quiet, walking more carefully than usual. The living room looked magical in the darkness.

The Christmas tree stood tall in the corner, its lights twinkling like colourful stars. The ornaments Peter and his parents had hung sparkled and shimmered, creating dancing shadows on the walls. Under the tree, wrapped presents waited patiently to be opened. "Look, Gracie," Peter pointed to the fireplace. "That's where Santa will come down. The chimney leads right there." On the mantle

sat a plate with three chocolate chip biscuits and a tall glass of milk. Next to it was a note Peter had written in his best handwriting: "Dear Santa, these biscuits are for you. Love, Peter. P.S. My dog, Gracie, is very good and deserves extra treats." Gracie sniffed the air, her pink tongue hanging out slightly.

She could smell those biscuits from across the room, but she was a good dog and knew they weren't for her. Peter grabbed his favourite blanket from the couch, the soft blue one with rockets and planets on it, and made a cosy spot on the floor where they could see the fireplace perfectly. He brought down his pillow too, just in case they needed to be comfortable while waiting.

"Okay, Gracie, here's the plan," Peter explained seriously, as if briefing a fellow detective. "We need to stay super awake, so we're going to play games and tell stories and keep watch. Santa could come at any moment." Gracie settled down next to Peter, resting her fluffy head on his lap. Her fur was so soft and warm, like a living blanket.

Peter loved how Gracie always made him feel safe and happy. Around 11 o'clock, Peter's eyes started feeling heavy. The warm blanket and Gracie's comforting presence were making him sleepy. No, he couldn't fall asleep now. "Let's tell stories," he said,

sitting up straighter. "Gracie, I'll tell you about the time Santa's reindeer visited our back garden. You weren't born yet, but I was three, and I saw hoof prints in the snow." As Peter told his tale, Gracie watched him with adoring eyes. She loved the sound of his voice, even if she didn't understand all the words. Sometimes she'd wag her tail extra hard when Peter got excited about a part of the story.

The grandfather clock bonged 12 times. Midnight. Peter's heart raced with excitement. "This is it, Gracie. Santa comes after midnight when all the children are asleep. Except we're not asleep, are we?" Suddenly, Gracie's ears shot

straight up. She heard something. Peter held his breath, listening hard. There it was—a soft thump from somewhere above them. "The roof," Peter whispered urgently. "Gracie, it's Santa's sleigh!" More thumps followed, like footsteps. Gracie stood up, her tail wagging but cautious. She made low, curious whining sounds. "Shh, Gracie. We don't want to scare him away," Peter said, though his own excitement was hard to contain. His heart was beating so fast, he was sure Santa could hear it.

Then came a new sound—something in the chimney. It was a rustling, shuffling noise, like someone trying to fit through a tight space. Peter grabbed Gracie gently, holding her close. They watched the fireplace with wide eyes. A cloud of soot puffed out into the room, making Peter want to sneeze. He pinched his nose to stop it.

There was more rustling, some jolly muttering that sounded like, "Ho, ho, ho, phew! A bit tight this year," and then two black boots appeared in the fireplace, then red trousers, a big belly and a red coat with white trim, and then finally, a cheerful face with rosy cheeks, twinkling eyes, and a magnificent white beard.

Santa Claus stood in their living room, brushing soot off his coat. Peter couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. Santa was real, and he was right there. Gracie, however, wasn't frozen at all. Her tail wagged so hard her whole body wiggled, and she let out a happy bark. Santa turned towards them, and instead of being surprised or upset, his face broke into the warmest smile Peter had ever seen.

"Well, well, well," Santa said in a voice like hot chocolate—rich, warm, and comforting. "What do we have here? A young boy and his faithful dog waiting up for old Santa." "Santa," Peter said, "you're really real." Santa chuckled, his belly jiggling like a bowl full of jelly, just like in the poem. "As real as the love between you and Gracie

here," he said, bending down to pat Gracie's head. She immediately rolled over for a belly rub, making Santa laugh even more. "Oh, what a good dog. American Eskimo, isn't she? Beautiful breed. Very loyal, very smart." Santa rubbed Gracie's tummy, and her leg kicked up in the air. "I know all about you, Gracie. You take very good care of Peter, don't you?"

"She's the best dog ever," Peter said, finding his voice again. "She helps me when I'm scared of the dark, and she plays with me every day, and she never chews my toys, even though sometimes she wants to." Santa stood up, his knees creaking a little. "Peter, my boy, do you know how special it is that you stayed awake to see me?

Most children try, but very few succeed. It takes determination and a pure heart full of Christmas spirit." "I had help," Peter said, hugging Gracie. "Gracie kept me company so I wouldn't get scared or lonely." "Ah, yes, the power of friendship," Santa nodded wisely. "That's what Christmas is really about, you know—not just the presents or the decorations, but the love we share with others."

Santa walked over to the plate of biscuits and picked one up. "May I?" "Yes, Mum and I made them special for you," Peter said proudly. "They have extra chocolate chips." Santa took a big bite and closed his eyes in delight. "Delicious. Your mother's recipe is famous at the North Pole. You know, the elves try to recreate it, but it's never quite the same."

"Really?" Peter's eyes grew wide. "The elves know about my mum's biscuits?" "Oh, yes, we know about all the best biscuits in the world," Santa winked. He took a sip of milk, leaving a little white moustache on top of his real white moustache, which made Peter giggle. Santa reached into his big red bag, which Peter hadn't even noticed him carrying.

"Now, I have something special for both of you. Peter, this is for being such a good boy all year—helping your parents, being kind to others, and taking such wonderful care of Gracie." He pulled out a beautifully wrapped present in shiny green paper with a golden bow. "But you can't open it until morning. Deal?"

Peter nodded eagerly, hugging the present. It felt like a book or maybe a game. He couldn't wait to find out. "And for Gracie..." Santa pulled out a red-and-white-striped candy cane, but not just any candy cane. "This one was made especially for dogs. It's a recipe from my reindeer. They wanted to make sure good dogs get special treats too."

Gracie gently took the candy cane in her mouth, her tail wagging so hard she almost knocked over Peter's glass of water on the side table. "Santa?" Peter said suddenly. "Can I ask you something?" "Of course, my boy." "How do you fit down all the chimneys? Some are really small." Santa tapped his nose with a gloved finger.

"Christmas magic, Peter. The same magic that helps me visit every house in one night, know exactly what every child wants, and keeps my reindeer flying through the sky. But you know what the most powerful magic is?" Peter shook his head. "Belief," Santa said simply. "The belief of children like you, the love of families, the joy of giving.

That's what makes Christmas magic real." The grandfather clock began to chime again, and Santa looked at it with surprise. "Oh my, I'm running behind schedule. Mrs Claus will be checking her watch. She always worries when I take too long at a house." He shouldered his bag and headed back to the fireplace.

"Wait," Peter called out. "Will I ever see you again?" Santa turned back with a gentle smile. "Peter, I'm always around when you need me. Maybe not always in person, but in the kindness you show others, in the joy you feel on Christmas morning, in the love you share with Gracie—that's where you'll find me." He knelt down to Peter's level.

"Can you promise me something?" "Anything, Santa." "Always keep that good heart of yours. Be kind, be brave, and always believe in magic. And take good care of Gracie. Dogs like her are special gifts." "I promise," Peter said solemnly. "And Gracie," Santa said, looking at the fluffy white dog, "you keep taking care of Peter.

Good dogs always get extra-special treatment on my list." Gracie barked once, as if to say, "I promise too." And with a final "Ho, ho, ho!" Santa stepped into the fireplace. There was a whoosh of magical wind that somehow didn't disturb anything in the room, a sparkle of what looked like golden snowflakes, and then he was gone.

Only a faint scent of peppermint and pine remained. Peter and Gracie sat amazed for a moment, and then Peter heard the jingling of bells from the roof, growing fainter as Santa's sleigh moved to the next house. "Gracie, we really saw Santa," Peter whispered. "We really, really did. This was the best night ever.

Thank you for staying awake with me." As Peter fell asleep, he smiled, knowing that this Christmas would be one he'd remember forever—not just because he met Santa, but because he shared the magical moment with his very best friend in the whole world, Gracie, the fluffy white dog who looked like snow and had a heart full of love. Somewhere in the distance,

if you listened very carefully, you could still hear the faint jingling of sleigh bells and a jolly "Ho, ho, ho!" echoing through the winter night. When morning came, Peter's parents would find him and Gracie sound asleep with the biggest smiles on their faces. And although Peter would tell them all about meeting Santa, and they would smile and nod and say, "How wonderful," only Peter and Gracie would know for sure that it really, really happened.

Because some magic is meant to be believed in with your whole heart, shared with your best friend, and treasured forever.

The Ballad of Peter and Gracie: Peter and Gracie, the finest of friends, with tales of wonder that never end. In the pages of books or stars above, they find their magic in laughter and love.

Windsor Plywood French Creek: The Pulse Community Podcast is brought to you in part by Windsor Plywood in French Creek, specializing in hard-to-source interior and exterior home finishing products, including flooring, doors and mouldings, and exterior project materials such as yellow cedar. Windsor Plywood French Creek carries high-quality, responsibly sourced products and is committed to providing outstanding value and personalize one-on-one service to all of our customers: homeowners, do-it-yourselfers, renovators, builders, designers, craftsmen, and contractors. Regardless of the type or size of your project, Windsor can help you bring your vision to life from start to finish. Let Windsor Plywood in French Creek help you with your renovation, new build, or building project. Visit them online or call 752-3122.