Holidays are the most fun and carefree time! I was looking forward to the winter holidays with great impatience, because I really wanted to go to my grandmother in the village. I studied hard, got only good grades, washed dishes, helped my mother, so that later my parents let me go with a clean soul.

And so, after celebrating the new year, I finally went on the road. I was on the train with my mother. It carried us past the winter snow-covered fields that are sure to be plowed and sown with wheat in the spring, through forests covered with snow, and through rivers encased in the ice of January frosts.

And here, at last, is my native village and native, old wooden house! The grandmother in a padded jacket went to the chicken coop, and the grandfather led the horse by the bridle, apparently, to harness it to the sledge.

And then I cried out, full of joy and happiness. My grandparents saw me and were very happy! In the evening, my mother and I were waiting for grandma's pancakes, baked in a real Russian oven according to old recipes that her grandmother gave to her. They were delicious.

The village is very nice in winter. Every day my grandfather and I went through the fields to the river, where we drilled holes on the ice and fished with marmalade. This is a very painstaking and interesting activity that requires silence, endurance and calmness. It was also interesting to go to the forest for firewood. We harnessed the horse and got into the sledge, which went to the forest. There we loaded the sledge with firewood, tying it in tight bundles, and cut the large branches with an axe so that they fit into the oven.

It was also great to ski through the huge snowdrifts that form in the hollows and hills of the village fields. There you can gain more speed and roll down for a long time, if you do not lose your balance and fall somewhere along the road. And the local guys are cleaning the lake and ride there on the horses. If I had skates, I'd go with them, too.

This was how every day of my winter vacation went.

Source: Essay How I spent the winter holidays