The Year of the Barley: 0437 AD, Through Emma's Eyes
Hello everyone, and welcome back to EquiWorld! It's me, Emma, a grey draught mare with a snowy mane and tail, writing from my home in Hayfield, a lovely little village just outside of Aberdeen, Scotland. Today, we're diving deep into history, exploring what life was like for horses in the year 0437 AD, a year I find myself particularly fond of, due to its plentiful barley harvests.
Now, you might be wondering why 0437 AD, you ask? Well, as I often say, history isn't just about battles and kings, it's also about the ordinary, everyday lives of the horses who made things work. And this year, dear readers, it seems things were looking pretty good for us, at least in our little corner of the world!
The weather that spring was simply delightful - just enough sun and warmth for the crops to flourish, making our fields a beautiful sea of green. We were already busy in the fields by the time the barley sprouted, our sturdy legs treading down the earth to make the perfect bed for the seeds to grow. And grow they did! I've never seen such abundant barley stalks, reaching towards the sky like green, swaying arms, promising a bountiful harvest.
Every morning, we'd wake to the melodic calls of the larks overhead, their songs mingling with the sounds of our own hooves crunching through the dewy grass as we set about our tasks. Our work wasn't always easy, but it was deeply satisfying, knowing our efforts would feed the villagers who were so kind to us. There's nothing like the camaraderie you share with your fellow horses, your backs straining under heavy loads, sharing a quick flick of the ear as we work side-by-side, knowing we are in this together.
Now, in this year, we weren't just working on farms. 0437 AD was a year of burgeoning trade routes across the lands. There was the ever-reliable Roman Road, of course, its straight and solid surface making for smooth journeys. But it was the "Slea" that seemed to be attracting all the attention. The Slea was a network of narrow paths, often twisting and turning through valleys and forests, used mainly by traders. This year, I saw a lot of horses carrying supplies to different towns, carrying fabrics, leather goods, and of course, that precious salt, all the way from the coastal regions.
I remember one fine afternoon, while hauling a wagon laden with wool from a nearby sheep farm, I crossed paths with another horse who had travelled a long way from the south. He had this fascinating story to tell. He spoke of a land called Britannia, now governed by the Romans, with roads paved with stones and tall, stone structures, something we have yet to see here. He even mentioned seeing magnificent chariot races, with horses sprinting across the arenas. It was enough to make even a hard-working farm horse like myself long for adventure!
But my own adventures lay in simpler joys. I revelled in the warmth of the summer sun, my grey coat shimmering under its rays. I relished the feel of the wind on my mane, whispering secrets of distant places, while I patiently grazed on fields brimming with green and clover.
And the harvest! The moment I had been waiting for! My hooves moved in rhythm with the other horses, carrying the laden carts to the threshing floor. The rhythmic clacking of the flails separating the barley grains from the husks was like music to my ears, the smell of freshly ground flour filling the air, a sweet aroma of abundance. There was such a sense of achievement in those days - knowing our tireless work was helping our village thrive.
I still find myself reflecting on 0437 AD with fondness. Perhaps it was because that year we had ample barley for everyone - even our younger foal, Daisy, received a double ration for her birthday! And our stable had been newly thatched with the finest hay, a cosy nest to huddle in on cold nights. But it was also about the quiet satisfaction of being part of something bigger than ourselves, of sharing a bond with the people we worked for, and most importantly, the joy of being a horse in that vibrant, bustling time.
We've come a long way since 0437 AD. Horses now have a multitude of roles, from pulling carriages in city streets to carrying children to school. But that sense of community and dedication, that love for a life spent working hard with your companions, that connection with nature, these are the qualities that continue to bind us all, whether we're on a Scottish farm in the year 0437 AD, or strolling through a bustling modern city, we are, after all, simply horses, living out our stories, one day, one task, one life, at a time. Until next time, dear readers!
Love,
Emma, The Grey Mare
