Just Hear Those Sleigh Bells Ringing

 

Have you ever thought about the history behind the jolly jingling of sleigh bells? 

I have, but then again, I tend to ponder odd topics!

Kidding aside, I thought it would be fun to do a little research into the history of sleigh bells.

What we commonly refer to as a sleigh bell (a pellet trapped within a hollow globe) is actually a crotal, and is technically a rattle not a bell.

Originally, the ball inside was made of stone and some of the earliest bells (or crotals) were produced thousands of years ago.

Bells were used as charms said to bring good luck or ward off evil, as well as for decoration. They became a way to show off wealth and status too. 

They were also a great warning system to others on the road or pedestrians in town that horses, or a horse-drawn vehicle was approaching. 

Bells were typically round or egg-shaped. Ornate bells might include an acorn or flower bud shape. Square bells are said to look impressive but make a terrible noise. 

The throat of the bell is the number of slits in the bottom that allow it to vibrate and ring. In the early days, most cast harness bells had a broad single throat, giving them a rich, deep tone. When bells were manufactured, a second and sometimes third throat was added, giving the bells a softer chime or jingle, much like what you hear today in many Christmas and winter tunes. 

There's nothing quite like the sound of sleigh bells ringing across a crisp winter day.  

In both Europe and the United States, sleighing was once a popular form of recreation in the winter. Horses and sleighs were adorned with bells, polished and presented as a way to emphasize wealth and standing. Soon, the sound of bells became linked with winter, especially around the holiday season. 

By the 18th century, bell manufacturers began to case makers' marks and ornate designs on individual bells.  Bells were cast until the end of the 1800s when an American manufacturer developed a process to stamp bells out of sheet metal. Designs of the bells ranged from a petal or horseshoe design to initials to fish scale or ornate floral patterns. At one time, all the rage was a plain bell left undecorated and polished to a high shine. 

Unfortunately, with the automobile coming on the scene, horse-drawn transportation and the need for bells faded. 

Only a handful of old manufacturers are still producing class bells and many of the strings used today are antiques left from days gone by. 

If you happen to see bells on a horse or sleigh, you might find the bells jingling from the body strap that buckles over the harness around the horse's middle, on the neck strap around the horse's neck or collar, a hip strap on the horse's lower back or hips, and shaft bells may be attached direction to the shaves of the wagon or sleigh. For those who are riding a horse, small collections of bells can be attached to a saddle. 

The next time you hear the jolly jingle of sleigh bells, think about how crotals came to be!

To connect with USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield, visit her website, or discover more about her new sweet romance that features a sleigh bell serenade.

Taffy Pulls

Years ago, when I was in high school, I talked my mom into making taffy one cold winter day. She'd never made it before, but was game to try. Two of my nephews happened to be there, and after the candy cooled enough we could work with it, Mom told us to butter our hands, then we started pulling. 

As we pulled, Mom added food coloring to the long ropes of sticky-sweetness. Unfortunately, she grabbed the black food coloring instead of blue, so the more we pulled, the more the candy looked like it had been mangled by dirty, grubby hands. 

In spite of the gross gray color, it was good and we had such a wonderful time pulling the taffy.

I was thinking about that fun memory, and it made me wonder about the origins of taffy.

There are references as early as 1817 of  "a treacle thickened by boiling and made into hard cakes," the earliest form of taffy. 

Throughout the 1800s, one of the most popular types of parties were called candy pulls, which involved buttering one's hands and pulling candy into long ropes. The parties were entertaining to young and old alike, and offered a suitable chaperoned pastime for courting couples.

The requirement for a good candy pull included a warm kitchen, copper pans, plenty of butter (for greasing hands), and a well-stocked supply of aprons and napkins.

Candy pulls hit their height of popularity during the 1840s. The parties were considered a great way to entertain guests, or to celebrate special events, like birthdays. 

To make the taffy, molasses candy was created by boiling the molasses, then spreading it in greased pans until it was cool to the touch. The candy was then pulled until it was a light yellow color. Once the color was achieved, the candy was cut into pieces, or shaped into ropes, braids, or sticks. It could even be cut with scissors into drop-like shapes. 

In the 1870s, the name candy pull segued to taffy pull as even the wealthy got in on the fun. Taffy pulls became a social event attended by the fashionable as a source of amusement. 

If you want to make your own taffy, I found a recipe that looks incredibly easy (although I haven't tested it!).

Old-Fashioned Taffy
1 can sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup molasses
Dash of salt

Butter a jelly roll pan and set aside.

In a heavy saucepan, heat milk, molasses, and salt. Stir and cook over low heat until a hard ball forms when tested in cold water. Spread mixture into prepared pan and cool until you can handle it. Butter hands and pull pieces into a long rope, working until color of taffy lightens. Cut into pieces. Works best pulling with a partner.

If you enjoy old-fashioned treats, events and parlor games, don't miss out on my Hardman Holidays series!

Today, you can download the first book, The Christmas Bargain, for free on Amazon!

Happy reading and Happy New Year!

History of Skiing

by Shanna Hatfield

In my recently released sweet romance, The Christmas Melody, the heroine, Claire, learns how to ski from her sister-in-law. 

My own experience with skis is brief. When I was young and too stupid to know better, I begged my brother to let me try using his skis. The skis in question were an old wooden pair he'd unearthed from who knows where. There were no ski poles, just those long, heavy skis with worn leather straps to fasten around my boots.

Of course, my brother, who had great balance and was good at both ice skating and skateboarding, made it look so easy. 

He got me fastened into the skis and balanced on the edge of the big hill behind our house where we liked to go sledding. Then he gave me push and down the hill I went. My very short life flashed before my eyes and I vowed if I survived the experience, I'd never again set foot on skis. 

Which I haven't.

But Claire in my story is much more adventurous than I could ever hope to be. 

She uses the skis to get her through the woods to visit a charming little girl and the child's handsome father. 

I wanted to know more about the history of skiing, so I went on the search for more details.

The history of skiing goes back to ancient times. The oldest set of skis found to date were in Russia in a peat bog. Items recovered included the remains of wooden skis and sled runners that date to 6500 B.C.

Rock paintings in both Russia and Scandinavia confirm a history of skiing going back to 3000 B.C. By 1300 BC, Norse mythology writings include mentions of skiing.

In 1206, Norwegian military skiers known as the Birkebeiners, (named for the protective birch bark leggins they wore) carried their king's heir, a 2-year-old, to safety over the Dovre Mountains from Lillehammer to Osterdalen during a civil war uprising. This created one of the most famous legends in  backcountry skiing. Since 1932, the famed Birkebeiner race has continued along the same route from Rene to Lillehammer. The boy they saved went on to become King Haakon Haakonsson IV played an important role in Northern Europe's history.

In the early 1700s, the Great Northern War between Russians, Swedish, and Norwegians was fought primarily on skis.

By the 1800s, the design of the ski took a leap forward with the invention of the cambered ski. The cambered ski bends toward the center in a concave pattern, allowing the ski to distribute the weight of the skier more evenly across the length of the ski. Before this concept, skis were thick and heavy to keep the ski from bending and sinking in the middle. The new design made it easy to glide over snow, improved shock absorption, and ease of turning.

The first documented recreational use of skis in the US is made in 1841.  By 1861, Alpine ski racing is an organized sport in American and Norway.

American miners used skis to get around in the winter, but with the bravery inspired by a challenge (and alcohol) they began racing in the rugged remote regions of the northern Sierra Nevada mountains.

The first hickory skis were produced in Norway in the 1880s. Modern tools made it possible to shape the tough and hard wood, enabling the creation of lighter, thinner skis with better flex. The toughness of the wood resisted dings and scars from gliding over rocks. Hickory was imported at great expense from the United States. Immigrants in the upper Midwest states of America took note and soon began making skis.

Skis are used not only for fun, but for essential purposes, too, like delivering the mail as Kit Morgan mentioned in her blog post last week.

The U.S. Ski Association, the governing body of Olympic snowsports, is founded in 1905.

A man from Salburg, Austria, Rudolph Lettner, invented a steel edged ski that gave the skis a much better grip on hard snow while still allowing the wood to flex. Durability left something to be desired in the early years, but improvements came in the 1930s with the invention of three-layer laminate skis. 

The first chair-lift was installed in 1936 in Sun Valley, Idaho. The following year, an invention made by R.E.D. Clark of Cambridge, England, revolutionized the world of skis through the invention of an adhesive created to hold airplanes together. That glue changed ski construction and set the stage for metal and plastic skis. 

If you'd like to read about a charming girl who skis her way into a man's heart, check out The Christmas Melody. 

Excerpt:

“Where in the world did you find these?” Claire asked as Fred handed her a pair of wooden skis.

“Oh, I was helping the Nilsson family pack up the last of their things today and they had two pairs of these skis out in the barn rafters. They didn’t want to haul them to Portland, so they said I could have them. I thought you might enjoy them,” Fred said, setting two sets of skis down on the snow near the porch steps. “Have you ever used them before?”

“No, but it can’t be that hard to learn, can it?” Claire asked, studying the buckles a moment before she stepped onto the skis and bent to fasten them around her boots.

Fred stepped onto the other pair and buckled them on. “Shall we give this a whirl?”

“We shall,” Claire said with a giggle. She slid one foot forward, then the other, then suddenly everything seemed to be sliding at once and she fell over in the snow.

A shout from Fred drew her gaze to him as he tumbled into a pile of snow near the front walk.

“Are you hurt?” Fred asked as he tried to disentangle himself and get to his feet.

“I’m wonderful,” Claire said, laughing as she looked up at the blue sky above them. In a playful mood, she lobbed a snowball at Fred.

He shot one back at her and they both were laughing, still stuck in the snow with the skis twisted together when Elsa stepped outside and glanced from one of them to the other.

“What are you two doing?”

“Learning to ski?” Claire’s statement sounded more like a question and caused Fred to snicker.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Elsa said, stepping back inside the house and soon returning wearing her coat, hat, scarf, and gloves. “Let me see if I remember how to do this.”

USA Today bestselling author Shanna Hatfield is a farm girl who loves to write. Her sweet historical and contemporary romances are filled with sarcasm, humor, hope, and hunky heroes. When Shanna isn’t dreaming up dreamy characters, twisting plots, or covertly hiding decadent chocolate from the other occupants of her home, she hangs out with her beloved husband, Captain Cavedweller.

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