Eighteen degrees. The rolling hills of south central Wisconsin. The ponds and lakes are frozen to a sturdy twenty inches.
Skies so blue they burnt the backs of your eyes. You could feel the crystals form in your lungs as you drew the crisp winter air in through your nose, that delicious air you devour expanding your lungs beyond their normal capacity.
Emmy and I slipped on our old skates. Rick glided around the pond on his leather soled shoes.
Chicken soup, hot chocolate and the ingredients for smores waited near the wood burning stove in the warming house.
They hitched the horses up to the sleigh but the ride was bumpy and cold. The movement of the sleigh created a wind force that burnt your cheeks and set fire to your throat.
This is Rick's friend, Julie's family farm. They have a link to their site. Here it is: