Visitors come knocking

Some one came knocking

~ Walter de la Mare

Some one came knocking

At my wee, small door;

Some one came knocking,

I'm sure - sure - sure;

I listened, I opened,

I looked to left and right,

But naught there was a-stirring

In the still dark night;

Only the busy beetle

Tap-tapping in the wall,

Only from the forest

The screech-owl's call,

Only the cricket whistling

While the dewdrops fall,

So I know not who came knocking,

At all, at all, at all.

It was a huge day yesterday.  Plans to have a BBQ picnic at the Cotter River were thrown into disarray thanks to the rain.  So we hosted the 'other-side-of-the-family' Christmas party at our house instead.  You have never seen such a whirl of activity getting the house in order in two hours {so that was a good outcome}.  The children hung by the study window waiting for Nanna and Grampa, and Uncles and Aunties, and cousins to arrive.  The moment the cars pulled up in the driveway, they stood at the ready on the inside of the door waiting for the buzzer to sound and then pulled it open immediately and bounced about excitedly, giggling and beaming at the visitors as they hovered on the porch, head and shoulders damp and with arms full of bounty.  It was as good, if not better, than waiting for Santa to come through that same door, as he usually does, since we do not have a chimney.