Twas the night before Christmas, (Jul in our HALF Norsk hus)
Every creature was stirring, including Farmor´s Kitchen Mus.
The stockings were hung on nails with care,
In hopes that someday a fireplace would be there.
Construction continues, but the end is near.
I hope next year is the LAST that workers are here!
So much to do, I don´t know where time went.
We had four weeks to prep, (this time we call Advent).
With each candle lit, I baked morsels of heaven.
You are not a good Norsk wife if you don´t have a choice of AT LEAST SEVEN!
Snow was a glitter under the bright new moon
Sunlight we might not see until closer to June.
I in my wool Long Johns, wool scarf and wool cap,
had just parked my SPARK, fancying a nap.
I put away the shopping and warmed up with GLØGG.
Mulled wine of sorts, with nuts and raisins in a mug.
I served the Christmas porridge ,that most call GRØT,
with excitement and anticipation…
but someone ELSE found the nut.
Yes hidden in the cereal is ONE almond to find,
and a Marzipan Pig awaits the inclined.
We went to church to hear yuletide messages,
and placed candles on gravesides of relatives who´ve left us.
We chat a bit and receive hugs from embracers
then home for pork rib and AQUAVIT chasers.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the table to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
Twas the neighbors stumbling home from a fest full of cheer.
A glance at the clock and for goodness sake
I scurry about because it is getting late.
I tuck in the children lively and quick,
Mommy´s getting tired
and there´s still St Nick.
We say our prayers and discuss what Christmas is about.
I give them hugs and turn the lights out.
Traditional Norwegian Jul can last all night
but we also have American traditions that we keep bound tight.
The best of both worlds we always say.
Take the good from here AND from there,
it´s a wonderful way!
I Dash down the staircase
to find Prancing like a Vixon
The Man of my dreams looking Donner and Blitzen!
I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
He really is a Dream Baby, that jolly ol elf.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon let me 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 smirk.
He gave me a kiss
and poured one Aquavit more.
A toast to bliss,
then continued his chore.
Amidst our scurry
I discover an oversight,
and run to the computer because I simply must write,
to my Goodness and Grit readers,
“Good Jul to all and to all a good-night!”