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Sunday, December 16, 2012

Holiday Letter from Kathy and David

Merry Christmas everyone!  Here is our holiday card to you, with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore. We think it will give you some idea how we celebrate Christmas in our mobile lifestyle.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' the camp
Not a campfire was glowing, not even a lamp;
Our stockings were laid by the fireplace with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The kittens were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of mousies danc'd in their heads,
And Eddie in her 'kerchief, and George in his cap,
Had just settled their brains for a long winter's nap —

When on top of the rig there arose such a clatter,
Baxter sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he sprang like a flash,
Flip opened the blinds, Luckie spewed on the sash.

The moon on the rest of the campground in snow,
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below;
When, what to our 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 call'd them by name:

"Now! Baxter, now! Luckie, now! Flip and Vixen,
"On! Eddie, on! George, on! Donder and Blitzen;
"To the top of the truck! To the top of the trees!
"Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away, please!"

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the tree-tops the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys — and St. Nicholas too:

And then in a twinkling, we heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As we drew in our heads, and were turning around,
Through the roof vent St. Nicholas came with a bound:

He was dress'd all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnish'd with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys was flung on his back,
And he look'd 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 laugh'd, like a bowl full of jelly:

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And we laugh'd when we saw him in spite of ourselves;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And fill'd all the stockings; then turn'd with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of a cat
And giving a nod, outa the trailer he gat.

He sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle:
But we heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight —
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

Merry Christmas to all from Kathy, David, Baxter, Flip, Luckie, Eddie, George . . .

. . . and the Troll

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