November had started wet, and ended unusually mild. The trees, as best they could, had shed their leaves, strewing crinkled tawny debris on the lawn and gardens of the Chipmunk Estate. At the tempting change in the temperatures, the chipmunks appeared from their lairs to gather still more supplies for the inevitable onset of the frigid season.

Skipper bounded effortlessly across the golden yard, filling his growing cheeks with sweet morsels. At one point, a young red squirrel slithered up behind him to rob him of his treasures. But here! Skip turned on his now fuller haunches, and sprang, chasing the marauder up a tree. Ah, how nature takes care of those evolved to fill a niche.

The wicked temperature turned colder, and hoary frost began to dominate. The last of the flowers shrank, and shriveled, their remains falling to earth to join their ancestors. Nothing wasted here, their stems, and leaves, and limp blossoms became, through time the soil for their successors. The last sweet days of temperate autumn disappeared. Proud cardinals still returned daily to the feeder in the last moments of light. Natural selection gave them sharper eyes then their stalkers and they flourished.

Below ground, the chipmunks knew their day would soon arrive: that day when their earth, though nearest the sun in its perigee, by its tilted axis enfeebled the light striking their part of the world. Winter was the most fearsome time for them (and all their neighbors and enemies). Stark oblivion faced those without the means to persist. They, the chipmunks, had set themselves tasks, to collect enough nourishment to last until the coming of spring.

Now there would be the test. Had they done enough? Unlike some creatures, chipmunks do not hibernate. Yes, they sleep a lot in winter’s grip, to conserve energy, but they must awaken from time to time to eat and drink. The snow would provide moisture (though Those Above did provide a warmed pan of water near the entrance to the Palace, but who could trust them to remember to fill it regularly?). Only the trove of seeds, carefully collected from many sources would insure their safety. It was thus that Mom Chip, after surviving her ordeal with the Red Monster, called her clan to the Palace.

 December 21 was the day of the Winter Solstice and all were invited to share the round year’s last feast of Mom’s special seeds. There were games, such as pin the tail on the Red Demon, and Bob for Peanuts. The high point was when Mom gave out gifts, packets of extra seeds for each child. Willow helped distribute the parcels, insuring each got one and only one of the precious stashes. Mom looked weary, and Willow worried whether or not Mom would see the Spring Equinox. But this was for the children and nothing would spoil it.

Granted the “children” had grown during the autumn, and would be fully fledged when the ice disappeared, and would be sent on their various ways to find suitable locations, to build nests of their own. Skipper was everyone’s prime example. He had started early in the year, finding a logical wonderful spot beneath the Hawthorne tree. He dug one, two, at least three entrances (one had been dug up by a great, marauding black cat), and filled its galleries with enough food for a small army of chipmunks.

“Now, my dears,” started Mom Chip slowly, “It is time that you knew about Chip Krinkle.” The games ceased and all the tiny heads swung toward Mom. “A long time ago,” she continued, “When the world was even fiercer than it is today, a terrible Winter struck this land. Many, who had not prepared vanished. Those Above did not live in the warren beyond the Palace, indeed, there was no Palace then. There was no easy way to gather provisions. No idle times then, all were in a frenzy to gather food for the time of darkness. October and November were dreadfully barren. Chill winds and temperatures cold enough to freeze the Red Demon’s tail stalked the province, holding all in a dreadful grasp.

“I was a child then, as untutored as you, and I clung to my mother. She gave me the name Tinsel, and that is what I was called until I moved into the Palace. We lived between some drafty logs in an abandoned woodpile. Mother had found leaves and bits of tattered cloth to block the unceasing winds a bit. Each day we two went out to find seeds and insect eggs (they taste vile, but contain some nourishment when you are truly hungry). December came, but the pile of food was very small for what we knew would be a long, dreary, sunless season.

"In the evening of Solstice Day, when I was asleep deep in a pile of gingham scrapes a strange thing occurred. I felt mother move from her place beside me. Someone was in the lair! Mother bristled and placed herself between the entrance and where I lay. Laughter, deep and oily as shelled walnuts came from beyond. Shivering I moved deeper beneath the nest.

“Mother called to me, ‘Tinsel, quick, come here!’ At first I dared not move. She called again gently, ‘Come on, it’s perfectly safe.’ I rubbed my sleepy eyes and crept quietly to her side. There in the entry was a large sack that smelled of nuts and sunlight. In the doorway, for just a moment, I caught sight of a large, jolly chipmunk. ‘Happy Solstice to you both,’ he cried. He was dragging a great sled made of stout sticks, upon which was a mound of similar sacks. Before I knew it, he was gone.

“‘Who was that, mother’, I asked, my eyes wide with wonder. ‘That,’ she responded was Chip Krinkle. When times are sad for needy chipmunks he delivers parcels of food to help them through the winter.’ “And that is why Mom Chips give children gifts of fragrant seeds on Solstice Evening. Remember Chip Krinkle will be there to help.”

The children chirped with joy, and so the party ended. All went home and dreamt of Chip Krinkle. Peace to all who believe.