Sleigh Bells Ring

Tomorrow is December 1st and winter will be upon us soon. Driving home today I finally came to rest on a radio station playing Christmas carols. I refuse to listen to Christmas songs in November, defense against the Groundhog Day haze that descends when you listen to the same reshuffled fare for two full months. Almost immediately I was rewarded with my favorite Christmas song, Snoopy and the Red Baron.

Despite the unusual balmy weather I settled into thoughts of winter. Snoopy and his foe were followed by the Sleigh Ride song by the Boston Pops. You know… the one with the jingling bells and the whip crack. This brought to mind a winter day sometime in the mid 70's. It was a school day, or should have been but school was canceled thanks to a good bit of snow that had fallen overnight and continued through the morning. The roads were snow covered and perfect for a sleigh. I ran up to the barn where I kept my horse, a cheerful and energetic little chestnut named Tumnus. The folks who owned the stable had an antique cutter in the basement of the barn. I harnessed Tumnus, brought him down to the basement and hitched him to the sleigh. Off we went trotting quietly on the snow covered roads. I had some small bells I had attached to his harness that were barely audible in the hush of the storm.

Our first stop was a short ways down the road for my friend Leslie, then around the corner and up the hill for Penny. The little cutter was built for two but three teenage girls don't take much space. Being tight together was actually a great advantage as riding in a sleigh is a very cold if delightful pastime.

Tumnus trotted briskly on and we began our travels. We headed off to the center of town, Concord, MA. Concord is a lovely town that retains many of the old colonial homes, barns and buildings. The roads are narrow and on this day the snow laced trees reached over our heads. We decided to go over the Old North Bridge, site of the “shot heard round the world”. This arched wooden bridge is maintained as part of the Minuteman National Park. Traffic is not allowed but we found a way to maneuver the sleigh past the vehicle barriers and down the path to the bridge. There we were, some 200 years after that fateful shot, crossing the bridge in a small sleigh, behind a trotting horse, surrounded by the weighted hush of the storm, seeing the flakes fall against a landscape that looked much like it would have in colonial days. The timeless charm was interrupted when we had to negotiate the vehicle barriers on the far side of the bridge. These were staggered posts with not much room between them. Thank goodness this was a narrow sleigh.

From the bridge we turned right and headed into town. We trotted on past historical homes, frosted with snow, smoke coming from the chimneys. But for the cars in the driveways there was little to indicate the century. There was almost no traffic on the roads courtesy of the storm. The roads in the center of town had been plowed recently and the traffic was more significant. Fortunately the sleigh runners ran fairly well on the slush other than one point when we stopped for traffic and Tumnus had to really dig in to get the sleigh moving again. We traveled about past the shops then turned back for home some few miles away.

I do not remember our exact route. I don’t recall what we talked about or how long we were out. Given how far we traveled we must have been out for some time. I do remember highlights like the trip over the bridge, the worrisome moments negotiating the barriers, and trotting through town. What I remember so intensely that it is almost as if I am reliving that day is the feel of the ride… the hush of world, the muffled cadence of the hooves, the vault of snow covered trees, the cheerful horse, the friendship.