MUSCODA - This is the time of year when we are bombarded with traditional sounds and sights of the season. They are in the air everywhere - broadcast, loudspeakers, etc. Many of us look forward to the sounds, although much of the singing has little or nothing to do with the actual Christmas story.

Who doesn’t get a lift from “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” cheer for “Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer”, remember our own “Nights Before Christmas” as kids, etc.? We are happy when the folks in the village win out over the mean “Grinch”. After all, the stories are traditions of the season.

Many years ago, Cathy Johnson, Avoca farmwife who wrote a weekly column for us, penned the following story. I think it belongs in the “tradition class” and readers will enjoy it – again, especially in this rural area. It first appeared in the December 24, 1981 edition of this newspaper and follows here. In my opinion it’s certainly better than the song about grandma getting run over by a reindeer.

“Twas the morning of Christmas and all through the farm, not a creature was stirring – I forgot to set the alarm. The stockings were hung by the bathtub with care – sure hope Santa is out there somewhere.”

While I’m in my flannels and hubby in his hat – the kids were still sleeping, thank goodness for that. Then all of a sudden we heard such a clatter – we sprang from our bed to see what was the matter.

We ran to the door with our eyes full of fear. There –eatin’ from the feed-bunks, were eight tiny reindeer.

The dogs were a barkin’ and the heifers had split. I knew right away it must be St. Nick!

The barn lights were beamin’ and the milkers were hummin!” That crazy red fella had thought we weren’t comin’. We flew to the barn, barely touching the ground. And then we saw him, all manurey and round.

He said he’d been waiting to leave a few toys for three darling daughters and two darling boys. He said that our chimney was far too much small. “The front door wouldn’t open, and you didn’t hear me call.”

“I waited and waited, much to Rudolph’s dismay, as they ate at the feed-bunk while I parked the sleigh. I hope you don’t mind that I started the chores. The cows seemed so gentle, and the bull only snores.”

His boots were a mess and his suit was a wreck. He twinkled his eyes and said, “Oh what the heck! This was my last stop on my list – I’d be tickled to help you, in fact I insist!”

So on with the milking we continued to do, my hubby and me and St. Nicholas too.