Being the adventures of a historic recreationist

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As a small child in New Hampshire, snow seem to be an integral part of the season. Snowball fights, tabogan sliding, ice skating, 'leather apron' treats and sleigh rides. Ah, the sleigh rides! One of our neighbours had a dairy farm and a team of Belgian draft horses. He didn't need them for his business, as he had a couple of nice refrigerated trucks. But being New Hampshire, there were times when the trucks couldn't go as well as the horses. And he didn't just deliver milk! Every year, he would hitch up the horses, dress all in fur and Saint Nick finery, and deliver toys! 

During Christmas break, farm chores allowing, Mr. Dairy Farmer would hitch the horses to the sleigh. In my child's perspective, it was HUGE - the Belgians looked like normal sized horses pulling it. We would get rides through the countryside; no sound but the swish of the runners, snow-muffled hoofbeats, and the fine jingle of silver sleighbells. I felt as though I were in a different world and time. Truly magical.