The First Snow of the Season
Yesterday, when I got up in the middle of the night, I glanced out the window and it looked like there was snow on the ground. I told myself it must be shadows I was seeing and went back to bed.
Imagine my excitement (yes, I’m still a kid at heart), when I woke up the next morning to see a dusting of snow, albeit little enough to track a cat. Still it’s the first of the season in this neck of the woods.
One year I propped “JOY” in the window when I took this picture of our one-horse-open sleigh. At the time, we had a pair of matched Belgian draft horses—though we only needed one for pulling.
I remember the utter silence of “dashing through the snow” on a crisp, wintry evening and hearing nothing but the tinkling of sleigh bells as we glided through the open fields. I’ll never forget the magical, peaceful feeling of those merry sleigh rides.
In 1992, we posed around the sleigh after taking turns riding through the fields. From l. to r: Debra, Austin, Russ, my father Reginald Carpenter, Tom, Robin, Randy. Mel and I are seated, as is Russ and Deb’s Newfoundland, Brigus. We still have the sleigh, harness, and bells, but not the Belgian horses. Since this photo was taken our family has been reduced by 4; increased by 7.