Every year without fail, my children, no matter what their age clamber around me with a book in hand.. Its a book that i have been reading to each and everyone of them every year since they were born just before bed time. I hope that it is a tradition that will see me reading to my grandchildren and great grand children in many years to come. While the book originally was the one that my parents read to me every year, a golden book no less, has been replaced for prosperity reasons.. (its not 34 years old) the tradition has not changed..
Just before bed time, santas special plate is set down on a table and laid upon it are freshly baked cookies and a hand full of cherries (the cherries are tradition from my childhood) are given in offering to the man in the red suit.
A beverage (normally daddies choice) is left beside it. While out on the lawn, a selection of grains and museli are scattered for the raindeer to feast upon, highlighted with glitter to light the sleighs way.
The children then have the story read to them and last minute letter to santa, not asking for gifts but wishing him the very safest of journeys is placed beside the plate.
So... to my friends, while i can not offer you a cookie, share with you the sweet taste of cherries from my birth town nor toast the season along with you with a drink, i would like to share with you a little of my tradition... and leave the writing of Clement C Moore for you to enjoy.
Merry Christmas to you all and i hope beyond hope that you all stay so very safe through the season and continue into the new year with laugher and happiness. May you be surrounded by love of those you cherish and even be spoilt like you deserve.
Love and christmas Kisses
Sandra
xxx
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
