Greetings, fellow equines!
My name is Emma, and I'm a grey draught mare, standing at a good 16 hands with a snow-white mane and tail, making me rather a handsome sight, if I do say so myself! I call Hayfield, a bustling village just outside of Aberdeen, my home, and I am pleased to share my equine perspective on life in the year 702 AD.
Life in 702 has been...interesting! A mix of long, hard work in the fields and the comforting rhythm of farm life. This is a time of change, and even a simple mare like myself feels it, just like the winds rustling the oat fields on the hillside. We have felt the rumble of mighty battles from across the sea.
Now, let's jump back to a tale from this past year...
Spring’s Arrival in Hayfield: Ah, the scent of fresh-turned earth! My strong muscles felt the familiar thrill of pulling the plough. Spring had arrived with a rush, like a foaling mare bursting from the stables. We horses worked alongside the human folk, prepping the fields for planting, their strong, nimble hands sowing the seeds. My human companion, a young man named Eamon, has a laugh like a clear, bubbling stream. He has the strength of an oak and a gentle touch when he tends to my coat and mane. He tells me stories of far-off lands where wild horses roam in vast, untouched plains. My heart would yearn for freedom, to roam with the wind at my back. However, duty, the rhythm of Hayfield life, kept my feet rooted to this fertile ground.
Summer Feasting and Festivities: The warmth of summer arrived, and with it the harvest. We worked tirelessly, hauling in the crops of oats, barley, and rye, bringing abundance to the community. The scent of the bakery mingled with the warm aroma of ripe hay, the sweetest combination! The humans feasted on roasted meats and fresh bread, singing joyful songs into the twilight. We, of course, received extra barley and sweet oats, enjoying the celebration with our share of the bounty. During these long days, I loved grazing with my fellow field companions - sturdy workhorses, nimble ponies, and young foals, eager to learn the ways of their ancestors. They were like siblings, and we basked in the camaraderie.
Whispers of War: However, a darkness hung in the air this year. Stories drifted down the winds, tales of a mighty war king and his legions marching across the lands. This warrior, called ‘King Charlemagne,' had been crowned in the land called ‘France’ and spoke of peace and unity. But the winds also brought stories of conquest and battle, stirring unease in Hayfield. The humans in the village spoke of anxieties, worrying about their future. My human friends started drilling, training for defence. The blacksmith, the village elder, spoke of reforging weapons, their clang reverberating like a drum against the horizon. My instincts whispered of danger, but I remained steadfast. My duty lay here, in the field, in the comforting routines of my life.
Autumn’s Golden Light: As autumn settled upon Hayfield, we horses stood strong, our coats growing thick against the cool breeze. The golden leaves, cascading like showers, rustled through our legs. It was the time for harvest festivals. Laughter echoed as the villagers gathered around a large fire. Singing, storytelling, and feasting filled the night air. But even during this joyous celebration, the stories of the war persisted. Eamon shared his worries, but I would rub my head against him, seeking comfort in his presence.
Winter's Silent Embrace: Finally, winter arrived, bringing its characteristic chill. The earth lay blanketed in snow, a thick white coat stretching from the horizon. The days grew shorter, but I still felt strong and capable. We helped our human companions by hauling in firewood for the homes, and sharing our warmth with those less fortunate. We kept the fire in their hearts burning bright.
A Moment of Hope: Despite the uncertainties and tales of war, life continued to hum, an eternal dance of birth and renewal. I stood with Eamon one winter afternoon, watching a newborn foal frolicking in the fresh snowfall. His mother was a fiery bay mare, filled with protective maternal instinct. The young foal was brimming with youthful vigour, kicking up the snow in joyous abandon. I felt a sense of hope as I watched the newborn frolic with innocent curiosity, knowing the resilience and the unwavering spirit that existed even in the bleakest of winters.
The Gift of Horses: Yes, dear friends, this year in 702 AD has been one of resilience, joy, and apprehension. However, even during these challenging times, I remember the essence of who we horses are - the backbone of our communities, a source of strength, endurance, and love. We carry our humans through difficult terrains, providing transportation, companionship, and a sense of unwavering stability in their lives. We are a reminder of the beauty of nature, the simplicity of life, and the bond that connects us all.
As I rest now, within the warm comfort of my stable, a feeling of contented calm fills my soul. It's the feeling that life, even in its turbulent phases, flows on with an eternal rhythm, much like a strong horse pulling a plough, steadfastly pushing through the fields of time.
Until next time, stay well, and keep those hooves stamping!
Your faithful friend, Emma
P.S. Don't forget to share this post with your equine friends!
