“One Sunday pot pie left a ring in my mother’s cherry table in 1986. That ring is the reason all of this exists.” — Why a 72-year-old woodworker from Pennsylvania is letting her last folding wooden trivets go at a special price, before her hands make her stop for good.

On Sunday at noon, Verna Landis takes the pot pie out of the oven in her cast-iron pan. Before she carries it to the table, she picks up the little wooden fairy from the counter. She lifts off the fairy’s top, fans the skirt out on the counter, and it becomes a flower.

She sets the hot pan right in the middle of it. Then she sits down at the same table she has eaten at every Sunday of her life.

Verna is 72. She lives in Lititz, a small town in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Next to her plate, there is a pale white ring in the dark cherry wood. She has never tried to sand it out.

“People ask me why I don’t fix it. I tell them that ring is the reason all of this exists.”

The white ring she never sanded out

The table belonged to her mother, Esther. It was a wedding gift in 1951. Esther polished it every Saturday for 35 years.

One Sunday in November 1986, the pot pie came straight from the oven and went down on the bare wood. When the pan came off, there was a white ring. It never went away.

Esther didn’t say a word. She just put the sugar bowl over it. Verna, who was 33 then, went out to the shed behind the house that same evening.

“My mother never complained about anything. That’s how I knew it hurt her.”

By midnight, Verna had cut a small Christmas tree out of scrap wood. Its 18 leaves turned on a single pin, so the tree could open up into a flat circle. That Christmas, it stood on Esther’s table. The roast went on it. Nothing ever burned that table again.

Nine hours in an old tobacco shed

Verna’s workshop is the old tobacco shed behind her house. In November, the sun falls through the gaps in the wall in long stripes. It smells of linseed oil and wood dust. Above the workbench, freshly colored petals hang on a string to dry.

For 31 years, Verna worked as a finisher at a furniture shop in town. She was the last pair of hands on every table before it left the shop: sanding, staining, sealing. She knows exactly what a hot pan does to wood.

At night and on weekends, she kept making her folding trees. First for neighbors, then for the neighbors’ children. About 1,400 in 39 years. Each one takes her about nine hours.

“Every petal gets cut, sanded and stained by itself. Twenty of them. Then they all have to turn on one pin like they were born together.”

A tree for Christmas. A fairy for the other 364 days.

For 25 years, Verna only made the tree. Then, in 2011, her granddaughter Lainey asked her a question. Lainey was six.

“Grandma, why does the tree have to go back in the box after Christmas?”

So Verna made something that could stay out all year. A fairy with red hair and wooden wings. Her skirt is made of 20 petals in honey, rose, cream and plum. And in her hands, she holds the golden star from the top of the tree.

“It’s the same star,” Verna says. “Only now somebody is holding it.”

Today she makes both. The Star Tree for the Christmas table. The Fairy for every other Sunday of the year.

What 39 years taught her about hot pans and good tables

People who get one of Verna’s fairies usually put it on a shelf first. Then Thanksgiving comes, and they find out what she really does.

• “The Bloom Pivot”: All 20 petals turn on one pin. Lift off the fairy’s top, fan out the skirt, and in a few seconds the figure becomes a flower. “If the hole is off by a hair, nothing turns,” Verna says.
• “The 20-Petal Spread”: The heat spreads over 20 petals instead of one spot, and the small gaps let it escape. Wide enough for a Dutch oven or a turkey platter.
• “The Finisher’s Seal”: Every petal is stained and sealed on its own, the way she sealed furniture for 31 years. Gravy wipes off with a damp cloth.
• “The Stand-Up Storage”: No more trivets lost in a drawer. Folded up, it stands on the counter or the mantel, ready when the oven timer rings.

Four moves from the mantel to under the pot roast

This is how it works at Verna’s table. No tools, no clips, nothing to lose in a drawer.

The photo under the Thanksgiving turkey

Lainey is 20 now. At Thanksgiving 2024, she took a picture of the family table: the turkey sitting on her grandmother’s fairy, opened up like a flower. She posted it online.

Within a week, more than 300 people had written to ask where they could get one. Verna doesn’t use a computer. So her daughter Kristin, a nurse in Harrisburg, set up the page where you can order now. She packs every box herself.

“I can run a drill press. Kristin runs the internet. That’s the deal.”

The October morning two petals split in her hands

What Verna will miss most are the quiet mornings in the shed. Coffee on the workbench. The stripes of sun on the floor. The first new fairy of the season opening up for the first time.

But the hardest part of every piece is the hole in the middle. She has to hold each petal flat against the drill with her thumb. Twenty times for every fairy. Last year, the doctor found arthritis in both of her thumbs.

“This October two petals split right in my hand. I stood there a long time before I switched the drill off.”

She can still saw. She just can’t finish anymore. And she was a finisher her whole life. 214 pieces are left from her last batch, Fairies and Star Trees together. After that, the shed will just be a shed again.

“The dinner table is the last place where everybody still faces each other”

Nine hours of work in every piece. Verna could ask for nine hours of wages. Nobody would blame her. She won’t.

“The dinner table is the last place in the house where everybody still faces each other. Nobody should have to ruin it with a hot pan.”

She wants her last fairies and trees on real tables this year. Under the Thanksgiving turkey. Under the Christmas Eve casserole. On tables like her mother’s, where a family still sits down together.

What families say about Verna’s fairy

• ★★★★★

  “I bought the fairy because she was pretty. Then my sister set the roasting pan on her at Thanksgiving and everybody at the table wanted to know where I got her.”

  Sharon M., York, PA
• ★★★★★

  “My mother’s oak table has two rings in it, just like the story. This tree is the first trivet in 30 years that I never have to go looking for.”

  Brenda K., Frederick, MD
• ★★★★★

  “Gave the fairy to my granddaughter for her first apartment. She keeps it on her counter, and she sends me a picture every time she cooks for friends.”

  Dottie R., Wilmington, DE

Three questions people ask before ordering

Where can I buy one of Verna’s fairies or trees?

Only through this page. Verna’s folding trivets are not sold on Amazon, Temu or in any store.

How long will they be available?

Only while supplies last. There are 214 pieces left from Verna’s last batch, Fairies and Star Trees together. When they are gone, there will be no more.

What if it’s not right for me?

You have 30 days to try it at home. If you are not happy, just send a short email and you will get your money back. No questions, no hassle.

More from people who set the table with one

• ★★★★★

  “The petals open so smoothly. I put my big Dutch oven straight from the oven on it, and the table underneath was only a little warm.”

  Marlys T., Lancaster, PA
• ★★★★★

  “I ordered the Star Tree for Christmas and then went back for the fairy. The tree is on the mantel now and the fairy lives next to my stove.”

  Deb A., Allentown, PA
• ★★★★★

  “Arrived very well packed, with a little handwritten card. My husband calls her the prettiest thing in our kitchen. She also works harder than anything else in it.”

  Carolyn W., Columbus, OH