The quiet of snow, even though horses are running, and rearing, and neighing at each other, silence fills the air. The collapsing of snow around my quilted horse boots is softer than breathing. I'm layered in clothing and warm, and enjoying something truly peaceful and extraordinary. The world has paused, life is on hold, all that matters currently is the barn, the falling snow, and the horses. 
Twilight does not wish to come in, she dances away from me, a strange creature wrapped in layers of dusty clothing, who stumbles slowly along to catch her. She is soaked, the water drips from her coat, her mane and tail curl like seaweed down her neck and legs, her pasture mates merrily laugh at me and dance along with Twilight
"You're crazy!" Beck calls from the gate where she waits for Dubby.
"Yes I am!" I retort as I slip Twilight's lead rope around her neck, and walk her to the gate. She holds her head aloft as I try to slip the halter around her neck, she refuses to be tamed. She seems unearthly her mane curling wildly, her shining wet coat, and she rolls her eyes so for a moment all I see in her head are two pink and white eyes, like pearls or bone. The winter has turned my horse into one of the fey, a kelpie. The cold and the stillness, make my imagination run wild. The cold mounds of snow are frozen waves, the frothy caps hiding a dark frigid navy sea beneath. If I ride this snorting fierce kelpie she will wheel and plunge into the ocean, and I will be lost.
As I affirmed earlier, 'I'm crazy.' And I take my kelipe out of the gate and through the snow which rises to my calf, and into the warmth of the indoor arena. Now the spell of the snow cannot reach us here. It is brown and dark and dusty and earthy, reality is more prevalent, and now all I have with me is a soggy horse, even though the magic has lessened as the steam begins to twist and smoke off Twilight, she keeps her unearthly qualities. I'm in no rush, I lung her for a while and then send her flying over jumps. For an hour we past the time in the indoor arena. Listen to the tap of wind blown snow on the roof, like small claws rapping against glass.
Twilight is trembling with energy, her eyes and ears on high alert. She curves her neck in a narrow arch over my head investigating every little noise.
We've ridden in gusting winds before, and Twilight has acted perfectly normal, but something about this subtle breeze seems predatory to her, dangerous, and exciting.
I don't bother with the full tack, just a bareback pad and her bridle. I swing onto her back and she is ready to spring, tossing her head up and down and prancing in place.
She hesitates as I press her out of the indoor arena and into the snowy tundra around us, she is no longer a part of the winter spell, but is now subject to it. I'm sure she see dancing phantoms of her own. We go to the outdoor arena, the snow preserved within it, flawless as parchment. I walk her around the arena once, but she is at home in the snow, we trot and finally after a few rounds I recklessly allow her to break into a canter and then a gallop! Now we have created a winter charm of our own. The world is quite and we charge through the snow, flowing effortlessly feeling like laughter untouchable and glorious.
After our ride I share a nature valley, honey oat bar with my 'kelpie' who is now once again my wild black lassie, and follows me around like a puppy once more. I am still giddy from the sheer delight of galloping in the snow, there was nothing to hold me to her, we rode together, just a small stretch of fabric between us, through snow about a foot deep we glided, that was magical.
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