[Nfb-krafters-korner] laate but cute

[Henrietta Brewer]

I found this in my email. I thought it might make some of you smile. 
It reminded me of myself. Well, I probably couldn't catch St. Nic to 
tie him up. lol
A Knitters Night before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas and all around me was unfinished 
knitting not under the tree. The stockings weren't hung by the 
chimney with care 'cause the heels and toes had not a stitch there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, but I had not 
finished the caps for their heads. Dad was asleep; he was no help at 
all, and the sweater for him was six inches too small.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I put down my 
needles to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a 
flash, tripped over my yarn and fell with a crash.
The tangle of yarn that lay deep as the snow reminded me how much I 
still had to go. Out on my lawn, I heard such a noise, I thought it 
would wake both Dad and the boys.
And although I was tired, my brain a bit thick, I knew in a moment it 
must be Saint Nick!
What I heard then left me somewhat perplexed-ed, for not a name I 
heard was what I expected. "Move Ashford; move Lopi; move Addie & 
Clover; move Reynolds; move Starmore; and Noro - move over!"
"Paton, don't circle round, stay in the line. Come now, you sheep, 
you'll work out just fine! I know this is hard being just your first 
year, I'd hate to back to eight tiny reindeer."
I peered over the sill; what I saw was amazing, eight woolly sheep on 
my lawn all a'grazing.
And then, in a twinkle, I heard at my door Santa's coming across the 
porch floor. I rose from my knees and got back on my feet, and as I 
turned round, Saint Nick I did meet.
He was dressed all in wool from his head to his toes and his cloths 
were hand knit from above to below. A bright Fairisle sweater he wore 
on his back, and his toys were all stuffed in a aran knit sack. His 
cap was a wonder of bobles and lace, a beautiful frame for his rosy red face.
The scarf round his neck could have streached for a mile, and the 
socks peeking over his boots were Argyle. The backs of his mittens 
bore an intricate cable, and suddenly on one I spied a small lable.
SC was the duplicate stitch on the cuff, and I asked "Hay Nick, did 
you knit all this stuff?"
He poudly replied "Ho-ho-ho, yes I did. I learned how to kint when I 
was a kid." He was chubby and plump, a quite well-dressed old man, 
and I laughed to myself for I'd thought of a plan.
I flashed him a grin and jumped in the air, the next thing he knew he 
was tied to a chair. He spoke not a word, but looked in his lap where 
I'd laid my needles and yarn for a cap.
He quickly began knitting, first one cap then two; for the first time 
I thought I might really get through. He put heels on the stockings 
and toes on some socks while I sat back drinking scotch on the rocks!!
So quickly, like magic his needles they flew, that he was all 
finished by quarter to two. He sprang for his sleigh when I let him 
go free, and over his sholder he looked back at me.
And I heard him exclaim as he sailed past the moon "Next year start 
your knitting sometime around June!"



Henrietta
~I wish you enough~