I have fond memories spending winter afternoons out at the barn, toying with the elements to get there first, but finally making it out for a chilly, but worthwhile afternoon. Bundled up in a sweatshirt, coat, and thick socks under my boots, I am prepared for the South Dakota chill. My horse's fur is longer than it's ever been, even in the heated barn. He looks at least 100 pounds heavier, especially inside his ears and around his neck--that's where the hair is extra thick and fluffy. I peel off his heavy winter blanket and hug the warmth around his shoulders. The hair is so soft and welcoming, radiating heat into my cold fingertips. I slip his leather halter around his head, which seems to be a bit tighter than usual. Brushing is also more time consuming; all that hair hides dirt deep within the hairs. A good pat sends a dense cloud of dust into the air, which only falls back to surrounding areas in a light dust snowfall of sorts. I saddle and bridle my boy, and up to the arena we go. The arena is much cooler than the cross-tie area; I puff out a deep breath to test the air and see my breath. After getting in the saddle, my horse and I take the ride with leisure. My chilled fingers grasp around the hard leather reins, dropping in temperature by the second. The ride goes on, cantering, trotting, getting 'warmed up' in some senses, but 'cooled down' in many other. My horse's breath is puffing out in grey gusts before his muzzle. A wintery crimson takes over my cheeks and nose as we trot around the arena, each hoof pounding down into the cool footing with power. I only really notice my coldness upon slowing down to the walk. Reaching my arms around my horse's neck, my fingers and arms are instantly warmer thanks to my kind horse. He is a furry heating pad with a sweet heart. Steam rolls off his damp fur, disappearing into the icy air around him.
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