Is Ded Moroz the Russian Santa?

He plays a similar role but he is not the same figure, and he comes at New Year rather than Christmas. He wears blue as often as red, walks rather than flying, and travels with his granddaughter Snegurochka.

Why is New Year bigger than Christmas in Russia?

Religious Christmas observance was suppressed after 1917, and in 1935 the tree and the festivities were officially revived as a secular New Year holiday. The habit stuck, and for many families New Year’s Eve remains the main celebration.

The Snow Maiden, described as Ded Moroz’s granddaughter, from a Russian folk tale made famous by Ostrovsky’s play and Rimsky-Korsakov’s opera. She travels with him, which no other winter gift-bringer has.

Letter from Ded Moroz — Grandfather Frost for Kids

The story

He is tall, he wears blue and silver more often than red, and he walks rather than flies. Snegurochka — the Snow Maiden — travels with him, which makes him almost unique among the winter gift-bringers: he has company. She is described as his granddaughter, made of snow, and she is the one who actually handles the correspondence.

Where it actually comes from

Ded Moroz grows out of Slavic folklore about a frost spirit, softened over the nineteenth century into a benevolent gift-bringer. Snegurochka comes from a folk tale popularized by Ostrovsky’s 1873 play and Rimsky-Korsakov’s opera. After 1917 religious Christmas celebration was suppressed in the Soviet Union; in 1935 the New Year tree — the yolka — was officially revived as a secular holiday, and Ded Moroz with it. That is why across much of the Slavic world the presents, the tree and the feast belong to New Year’s Eve rather than to December 25. Veliky Ustyug in northern Russia has been promoted as his official home since the 1990s.

What it does for a child

A New Year figure does something a Christmas one cannot: it puts the emphasis on the turn rather than the gift. For children old enough to feel time passing — and some feel it very early — a letter that says plainly that nothing learned is lost in the change of year is steadying. It is also the natural letter for a family that keeps New Year rather than Christmas, or who keep both.

Warm, Warm, Dear Frost

A story to read aloud · about 5 minutes

Long ago in Russia, in a village at the edge of an endless forest, there lived a girl named Martha. Her sheepskin coat was worn thin at the elbows, but she always had a song on her lips.

Martha lived with two sisters who were very different from her. They stayed in bed until dinnertime, and their mouths were always full of complaints. But Martha was up before the sun. She fetched the wood for the stove and kept it burning. She cooked and mended, and she was kind to everybody.

One winter morning, when the snow lay deep and hard and the whole forest crackled with cold, the woodpile ran low. Martha pulled on her old coat, took the little sledge and went into the forest to gather wood. Deep among the pines and birches, she came to a great fir tree standing alone on a little hill. There she sat down to rest. The wind whistled through her thin coat, and her teeth began to chatter.

Then, not far away, she heard a crackling among the fir trees. It was Frost himself, leaping from treetop to treetop. He leapt into the great fir above her, crackled in its highest branches and called down, “Are you warm, little maid?”

Martha answered politely, “Warm, warm, dear Frost.”

Frost laughed and came a little lower in the tree, crackling louder than before. “Are you still warm, little maid? Are you warm, little red cheeks?”

Martha was so cold she could hardly speak, but she answered, “Warm, dear Frost. Warm, kind Frost.”

Frost climbed lower still and crackled louder than ever. “Are you still warm, little maid? Are you warm, little red cheeks? Are you warm, little paws?”

Martha could only whisper, but she whispered kindly, “Warm, little pigeon. Warm, dear Frost.”

Then Frost’s icy heart melted. Down he leapt with a tremendous crackle and a shower of sparkling snow. He wrapped Martha in rich, soft furs and tucked warm blankets around her feet, until she was as cozy as a cat beside the stove. Then he gave her a fur cloak, a lovely veil and a box of splendid presents fit for a princess.

All night long Martha sat snug beneath the great fir, singing, while Frost crackled and laughed in the branches. In the morning she pulled her presents home on the little sledge, singing all the way.

When her sisters saw the furs and the box of presents, their eyes grew round. “We’ll go to that fir tree too,” they said, “and Frost will give us even better gifts!” So they bundled up in their warmest coats and marched off into the forest.

They sat down under the great fir and began to quarrel. “Move over!” “No, you move over!”

Frost came leaping through the treetops and asked, “Are you warm, maidens? Are you warm, little red cheeks?”

“Warm? Ugh, Frost, go away!” they snapped. “Are you blind? Our hands and feet are frozen!”

So Frost crackled louder and swifter, and he nipped their noses and pinched their fingers until they were as red as cranberries. The two sisters ran all the way home with nothing at all, and after that they tried a little harder to speak kindly.

In Russia, people call him Ded Moroz, which means Grandpa Frost. They say a little snow girl belongs to Frost as well. She is Snegurochka, the Daughter of the Snow, who dances in the moonlight and throws snowballs at the stars. She spends her summers on the frozen northern seas and comes back every winter. Some day, when you build a snow girl, you may find the little Daughter of the Snow standing there instead.

So if you ever hear Frost crackling in the trees, and he asks whether you are warm, remember Martha and answer him kindly. Kind words win kindness, and cross words win cold.

Adapted from Arthur Ransome, Old Peter’s Russian Tales: ‘Frost’ and ‘The Little Daughter of the Snow’ (1916). Public domain. Read the original.