In years past, particularly as a child, I looked forward to Christmas for weeks. My high level of anticipation generally started right after Halloween, continued through Thanksgiving, then peaked Christmas morning. There were presents under the tree and a stocking on the mantel; that is in those places where we had a mantel. Afterwards, the wrapping paper would be cleared away and the presents would be stacked neatly under the tree. I’d content myself by playing a new game with my sister or reading a book. I did not look forward to New Year’s Eve because it held no significance for me.

Alys and Raudi dressed up for the Chirstmas agility video

I did not have the pre-holiday ups or the post-holiday downs this year. Christmas was, perhaps for the first time ever, really just another day. There was no gift exchange here. I even forgot to put the few holiday cards we received from friends and businesses up above the kitchen window. The good thing about this was that I did not suffer from post-holiday malaise. And for this, I am grateful.

It was another day just like any other. We got Tyra and Hrimmi out mid-morning. Our plan was to get them out at 9 or 10 a.m., earlier being better than later. Sad to say, some snowmobilers had the same idea. They were out in large numbers by 11 a.m. I have never seen so many of them on our trails. The sight, smell, and sound of them is very obtrusive. Pete and I returned home and went out a second time, this time Pete rode Tyra and I rode Raudi. Again, the bilers were out.

I am forever grateful for the fact that we have level-headed Icelandics, this as opposed to wacked-out Arabs. It was just plain good luck that we ended up making a breed choice that’s compatible with our main riding-related interest, which is trail riding. I say good luck because if the roll of the dice had been different, I would have had a Morgan-Arab in my backyard, but, most likely not for long.

Once we got home, we untacked. I then took Tinni for a short walk around the very quiet hood. I’d thought that the snowmachine traffic was coming from the Snowmachine Ranch on the upper road, but amazingly, the gates were locked.

I came inside and called my sister, El. We did not talk at all about Christmas’s past. This is because neither of us really live in the past. Once in a while, a memory will pop up like an image in an Advent calendar, but very rarely. El’s holiday was like mine, minus the horses.

It’s now a hop, skip, and a jump to the New Year. It too, is going to be a day like any other.

Next: 356. 12/27/20: Upstairs