Yes! It’s Christmas Eve!

As a child Christmas Eve was the highlight of my calendar since in Germany it’s the late afternoon when Father Christmas drops off his presents, just when you happen to be at church singing some carols and watching the nativity play.

I remember feeling so sorry for all those children of other nationalities who had to wait till Christmas Day for their presents but I concluded that Father Christmas had to start somewhere to get them all delivered in time. In case you wondered I’ve gotten over my childhood trauma since moving to London and fully embrace the English Christmas traditions now. In fact I really like the anticipation on Christmas Eve when everything is decorated, wrapped, shopped for and prepped and the festivities begin with a little mulled wine and a mice pie or a glass of champagne with smoked salmon canapes to ease you into the spirit.

When I met The Cowboy a few years ago even more traditions came into play, this time American ones. He’s a gentle character but when I suggested a ‘really nice organic chicken’ he drew the line: it had to be turkey or he would go on strike. Same goes for the stuffing, cranberry sauce and sweet potato mash, all prepared by him and nothing else will do. So none of my northern German Christmas food of boiled carp with horseradish and boiled potatoes then!? Admittedly, it wasn’t a big concession on my part.

One American tradition I love is reading the poem ‘twas the night before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore on Christmas Eve. It captures the spirit and anticipation of Christmas beautifully and makes me smile each time I read the description of this jolly character who is Father Christmas.

So tonight for the first time I’ll read it to my two little elves in their pyjamas and hope that they’ll have a good long sleep. *Dream on Mami*

Wishing you all a magical Christmas Eve!

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

by Clement Moore

Make it Snow !

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 our brains 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 tinny 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, on Donner 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 head, 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!”

NOTE: The poem ‘Twas the night before Christmas’ has redefined our image of Christmas and Santa Claus. Prior to the creation of the story of ‘Twas the night before Christmas’ St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children, had never been associated with a sleigh or reindeers!

Clement Moore, the author of the poem Twas the night before Christmas, was a reticent man and it is believed that a family friend, Miss H. Butler, sent a copy of the poem to the New York Sentinel who published the poem. The condition of publication was that the author of Twas the night before Christmas was to remain anonymous. The first publication date was 23rd December 1823 and it was an immediate success. It was not until 1844 that Clement Clarke Moore claimed ownership when the work was included in a book of his poetry.

Photography | I found this on Pinterest without any photo credit. Please get in touch if you know the source.