Bubbles

There’s a saying at the North Pole:
“If something is too beautiful for words…

Bubbles probably made it.”

She wasn’t born in a blizzard or summoned by song.
She was found—gently swinging in a wreath that had floated down the Silver River.

Inside the wreath was a tiny elf wrapped in ribbon, quietly painting snowflakes with a peppermint brush.

Her name was Bubbles.

Her companion is Juniper, a young deer with snow-dappled fur and a gentle heart.

Juniper wandered into Bubbles’ studio one evening and curled up beside her paints—quiet, peaceful, and covered in pine needles.

Together, they remind us:
Magic doesn’t always shout.
Sometimes, it paints.
Sometimes, it sparkles.
Sometimes, it simply stays close.