Greetings, fellow equines, from Emma here, your grey mare correspondent from Hayfield near Aberdeen! I’m excited to bring you the latest from my world in the year 1394. This, of course, is no ordinary year – it's the year I turned a sprightly twenty, and let me tell you, I've been keeping busy!
Oh, how I love to look back. As the crisp autumn air rustles the leaves and whispers through my mane, my thoughts turn to a time of boundless fields, robust farm life, and the rhythm of hooves against the soil. It seems ages ago since I was a foal, full of curiosity and boundless energy, and now I stand tall and proud, a testament to the grace of our breed – a strong and loyal draught horse.
This year began in the warmth of spring. As the first daffodils peeked their heads through the frozen earth, so too did my life gain a renewed vibrancy. It is a familiar cycle, as much as I love the long, cool nights of winter and the peace of snowy mornings, the call of spring fills me with a sense of possibility.
One of the first whispers of this new year came from our neighbouring village, nestled just beyond the green fields. It seemed the old shepherd, a gentle soul named Jamie, needed a sturdy, reliable mare for his flock. He sought out the strong and sure-footed horses of our region and was told about my steadfast nature. The next morning, Jamie arrived, his eyes gleaming with hope and a small cart in tow. He approached me, offered me a carrot – which I happily accepted – and then we walked side by side, our journey beginning amidst the welcoming glow of the rising sun.
The village was like stepping back into a forgotten age, with cobbled streets winding through the heart of the community, and small, thatched houses with their smoke curling up towards the heavens. The shepherd, a thin man with hands as rough as oak bark, showed me the flock – a sea of white sheep spread across the meadows. My duty was simple, yet significant: to help him gather the sheep, transport the wool to the nearby mill, and, on rare occasions, help pull his cart through the winding trails of the surrounding highlands.
And so began my days. The sunrise would find me patiently waiting in the shed, a delicious, fresh bowl of oats awaiting me. I would graze in the mornings, breathing in the scent of fresh earth and clover, before my shift with Jamie. We were a team – he, the experienced guide, and I, the strong and steady companion. The rhythm of our lives became familiar; a pattern of work, rest, and the unwavering bond between horse and shepherd.
It’s times like these that I understand our unique connection to the world. It is not simply about hauling heavy loads, it is about being a partner, a part of the fabric of daily life, of helping people in ways large and small. Jamie, despite being as strong as a bull, could not gather his flock or reach the market without my help. This gives me a sense of purpose. To feel needed, useful, part of a wider, intricate tapestry.
My duties changed slightly when harvest came, a season filled with sun, the scent of hay, and a joyful bustle on the farm. I wasn't used to farm work – I had never lived on one before, but Jamie said I had the strength and the gentleness for it. He found a way for me to assist in hauling the carts piled high with hay to the barn, where the golden bounty would be stored. My large size and muscular frame were ideal for these heavy, but rewarding, tasks.
I felt a kinship with the farm horses, the smell of fresh earth and the feel of the earth under my hooves something I would forever treasure. As we moved in tandem, pulling the carts filled with freshly cut hay, we worked together in silent understanding, each hoofbeat an affirmation of our connection to this shared purpose. And when the sun set, casting long shadows across the fields, the aroma of warm, freshly baked bread from the farm kitchen would fill the air, mingling with the scent of the fields and reminding me of the comfort of community, of the bonds of shared purpose that intertwined us all.
The long days of summer eventually yielded to the coolness of autumn. Jamie spoke of the markets, his eyes filled with the prospect of a bountiful winter, with his flock having grazed in the meadows, they now stood strong and healthy, and he would be selling much of the fleece. He planned to take his wool to a city he spoke of as "Aberdeen." He spoke of this great city with admiration, mentioning grand buildings, bustling streets, and throngs of people from all walks of life.
Aberdeen held an air of intrigue for me. Though my days were spent in the heart of nature, the tales of cities reached our village on the wind. Of bustling markets filled with vendors showcasing wares from far-flung corners of the world, the clanging of blacksmiths' hammers echoing through the streets, the shouts of merchants hawking their goods, and the symphony of life played out on cobblestones and stone buildings. The yearning for a taste of such vibrancy, a feeling unknown yet deeply desired, started to simmer within me.
The journey to Aberdeen, when it arrived, felt almost like a homecoming. Despite the long roads and the unfamiliar sights, a strange familiarity settled within me. It was the air – the scent of salt mingling with the smoke from a thousand fires. As we drew closer, I felt the energy of the city pulsing around me, and my heart raced with a strange mix of anticipation and wonder.
The markets of Aberdeen, a kaleidoscope of colour and sound, held my attention spellbound. I had never seen such an abundance of stalls laden with goods – vibrant fabrics, polished leather goods, gleaming metalworks, fresh produce, and spices with names I didn't know.
And the people, oh, the people! So many – traders, merchants, workers, artisans, men, women, and children, their voices creating a constant, vibrant hum. I watched with wide-eyed wonder as they jostled and bargained, their energy buzzing around me like a swarm of bees.
Amongst the hustle, there was beauty too. In the rhythmic sway of the weavers' looms, in the intricate patterns of the artisans' creations, and in the grace of the ladies of the city. Even though they were all on foot, they had their own sense of style. The women I saw were resplendent in their gowns – brocades of scarlet and emerald, their sleeves edged in lace, their heads crowned with ornate veils that swirled around them like clouds of gossamer. And the men! All manner of cloaks and capes adorned them, their faces shaded by broad-brimmed hats.
For the first time, I noticed how the horses within the city were different from me. Smaller, with legs slender like the deer in the highlands, their coats dappled in elegant roans and browns, and their heads crowned with flowing, silk-like manes. I couldn’t help but notice the envy that prickled inside me as I observed these elegant, almost otherworldly horses, drawing carriages for merchants and noblewomen, pulling sleek coaches adorned with gilded crests. Their bearing radiated an air of regality, an aura of being closer to the upper echelons of society than the rough-hewn horses like myself.
Yet, despite their beauty and elegance, something about those city horses lacked the strength I felt coursing through my powerful muscles. There was a grace in their steps, an agility I could only admire, but a robustness in their frame that seemed absent.
The journey to Aberdeen, I realised, wasn’t just a trip to the market; it was an awakening of sorts. It showed me the wide range of possibilities within our world. I began to realize that horses, like humans, can find different roles and express their potential in countless ways. And I, with my sturdy build, would forever belong to the world of work, the realm of strength and endurance, while others would find beauty in graceful motion, agility, and the intricate dances of city life.
Returning from Aberdeen, I felt changed, filled with a quiet pride. I still held the essence of the country girl, with my love for the green fields and the gentle warmth of the sun. But now, the memory of the city thrummed through my veins – the pulsating energy, the cacophony of sounds, and the sights that had captivated my senses. I had seen the world beyond our little village, beyond the meadows, the highlands, and the familiarity of the shepherd's life.
As I moved with Jamie, pulling his cart, the rhythm of our work took on a new dimension. I realised that each day, every step, every task I perform – whether it is guiding sheep through fields, carrying hay to the barn, or helping Jamie transport his precious wool to the city – holds an intrinsic worth.
Life continued its cyclical dance of seasons. Winter came, wrapping us in a frosty embrace. We sought shelter in the barns, warming ourselves by the faint heat emanating from our straw bedding, listening to the wind whispering tales of distant lands.
Despite the chill of the season, a sense of quiet satisfaction pervaded my being. It was a contentment that came from a year filled with hard work and meaningful contributions, from being a partner to a gentle shepherd, a silent witness to the changing seasons, and an important part of my small, yet vibrant, world.
For now, my journey, my purpose lies here in the quiet meadows near Aberdeen, the wind singing its melancholic tune through the trees, and the stars scattered like diamonds in the velvety night sky. There’s a calmness in the silence of winter that only a strong and faithful horse like myself can appreciate, the rhythm of my breathing blending with the symphony of the world, and within this tranquil world, I find an incredible peace, a sense of belonging that brings a smile to my face.
As I settle for the night, the moon casts an ethereal glow upon my sturdy form, reflecting on my life, on my year, I can’t help but feel grateful. This year has brought so much more than just new experiences. It has allowed me to discover myself, to find purpose within the mundane, and to appreciate the beauty that resides in every season, every task, and every connection.
Goodnight, my fellow equines, and may your nights be filled with sweet dreams of rolling green fields, soft straw bedding, and the warm feeling of belonging to the vast, wonderful world we share.
