Hayfield, near Aberdeen, Scotland - April, 0612
Good day, dear readers! It's Emma here, a grey draught mare with a splash of white in my mane and tail, and welcome to my humble little corner of the Equiworld website. I know, I know, it's been a while since my last post! But with spring in the air, the smell of new grass filling my nostrils, and the days growing longer, the energy within me just bursts with stories.
As you know, I’m from Hayfield, a small village nestled amidst the rolling hills of Scotland. Here, we live close to nature, the rhythms of the seasons dictating our lives. The world here is simpler, more natural, but by no means dull! And believe me, even a grey mare like me has quite the tales to tell from the year 0612.
This year, spring seemed to arrive with a whisper. We woke to a chill in the air, but even the frost couldn't quell the green shoots that burst forth from the earth. Soon, our winter coats were replaced by lighter, dappled hides, and the air was thick with the chatter of new foals. A wave of playful energy washed over the fields as youngsters learned their steps, their clumsy leaps filling the air with joyful squeals. I'll admit, watching them reminded me of my own rambunctious youth, and stirred up a longing for those carefree days.
However, life as a draught horse is all about hard work. And in Hayfield, work never sleeps. We horses are indispensable members of the community. Our sturdy frames pull the plows that turn the soil, carry heavy loads across the landscape, and even pull wagons carrying eager travelers to nearby villages.
This year, my task has been pulling the miller’s cart. The journey to the mill and back isn’t easy, especially on a day like yesterday, when rain lashed down, and the road turned to a muddy morass. But despite the challenging conditions, we did our job. We always do, you see, because a horse’s purpose, especially one with my physique, is service.
As I stood patiently, nose to nose with my fellow draught horses, the rhythmic thudding of the miller’s cart wheels a lullaby to my ears, a vision of another life, far from the fields of Hayfield, flickered through my mind. I'd heard whispered tales of horses, elegant and slender, prancing on finely-woven carpets within the halls of great houses. Horses trained for grand tournaments, where they would show off their agility and speed for the admiration of a crowd. While I admire the grace of those horses, I couldn't imagine myself in that setting. My strength, my resilience, are most valuable here, in Hayfield, where life unfolds on the fields and under the sky.
I'll tell you a secret though - deep inside me, nestled beneath years of carrying heavy burdens and the quiet strength of a workhorse, there’s a yearning for a different sort of story. A story where strength is measured by grace, and endurance is measured by elegant speed. Perhaps in another lifetime, I’d be that horse, galloping through the sun-drenched fields, the wind in my mane, but this life… this life is mine. It's filled with purpose and love. And perhaps that's enough.
June, 0612
Spring is fading, the fields turning from vibrant green to a sun-kissed gold. Summer is on the horizon, bringing with it a different rhythm to Hayfield. It’s the season of the Highland Gathering, a tradition celebrated with the vigor and spirit of the people of Scotland. The festivities last for a week, each day packed with song, dance, games, and yes, even a bit of horse racing!
The villagers will be in high spirits, celebrating with stories, song, and dancing. But most importantly, they will be feasting! This year, as part of the grand finale, there will be a competition amongst the best bakers in Hayfield. It will be a lively affair, with everyone vying for the title of the best baker in Hayfield. This year’s winner will bake the “Giant Loaf”, the traditional delicacy for the festival, baked for everyone to enjoy.
My part, of course, will be to help carry the giant loaf on display. I know this is going to be a busy, challenging time. We'll be hauling sacks of grain to the baker’s, carrying the loaves to the grand celebration, and, of course, bearing the honour of transporting the winning baker through the bustling streets of Hayfield. All in all, it's going to be a long, full, and delightful experience. I can practically feel the warmth of the sun on my coat and the aroma of freshly-baked bread on my nose!
The Highland Gathering is an important time for the community. It’s a celebration of their identity and heritage, and, more than anything, it brings everyone together. The horses are just as much a part of this festive spirit as any human, if not more so. The rhythmic stomping of hooves, the sound of horseshoes on cobblestone streets, adds a musicality to the occasion, as the horses themselves become symbols of the vibrant life of the community.
I will also share the joys of the Highland Gathering with my dear friend, Daisy. Daisy is a magnificent grey mare, strong as a bull, gentle as a lamb, and just about the most lovable creature I know. She is a dear companion, a friend I’ve known since we were foals, and a horse who always knows how to lighten even the toughest task with a friendly whinny and a playful nip. We spend much of our time together, whether it's pulling the carts, or sharing a quiet nibble of grass beneath the midday sun.
The two of us are an unlikely pair, as we often like to explore the woods surrounding our home. We love to discover hidden paths, follow streams that gurgle down the hill, and rub noses against the ancient oaks that stand like watchful sentinels. The air is clean, the trees fragrant, and there's a quiet energy that whispers secrets through the branches. These are moments I cherish, where time seems to stop and the only sounds are the whisper of the wind and the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot.
The highlight of the Gathering, though, is the storytelling. As the sun dips towards the horizon, casting long shadows across the village, the elders of Hayfield gather to recount tales of our ancestors, whispered secrets from long ago, and sagas of legendary horses.
One such tale speaks of a legendary stallion named 'Morag', a white horse whose coat shimmered like the snow. The stories say Morag led his herd to freedom across mountains and valleys, carrying a banner of peace and prosperity for his people. There's a spirit, a fierce determination within me, that finds kinship with Morag's tale. Perhaps, someday, even a humble grey mare like me will leave a legacy, one built on hard work, determination, and love.
September, 0612
The leaves on the trees are turning. Scarlet, amber, and gold leaves spiral gracefully to the earth, painting the landscape with vibrant colors. The days are getting shorter, the evenings colder, and the wind carries the scent of autumn leaves. It’s a time for reflection, for the preparations of the upcoming winter, and, for a horse like me, it's the beginning of another harvest.
The days are getting cooler, but the evenings remain warm, with stars twinkling like tiny diamonds scattered across the velvet sky. As we head out to the fields in the morning, our coats getting thicker and denser to keep out the coming chill, I know the long winter ahead is close at hand.
Winter means one thing – preparations. The fields will be bare soon enough, but not before we make sure we have gathered enough for the year to come. My days are spent gathering crops from the field and helping to prepare the land for the harsh weather. I'll tell you a secret: the smell of freshly cut barley is a favorite aroma for any horse, I can tell you.
The preparations may seem tough, but the warmth and camaraderie of the community keeps my spirits up. We work as a team, horse and human, knowing our collective efforts will ensure the survival of the community. We'll keep warm, we'll eat well, and we'll look forward to spring with renewed energy. It’s the simple cycle of life. And even though I’m a creature of habit, a routine-loving horse, I love that every season brings its unique flavor. I may not understand everything happening around me, but I have learned to trust the rhythm of nature, to be part of it.
December, 0612
Winter has settled in. The days are short, the nights long, and a veil of grey clouds hangs heavy in the sky. A light frost has already painted the fields a pale silver, and the icy winds nip at my nose as I trudge alongside my human companions. Winter is the season of rest, of huddling together, and of seeking the comfort of warmth.
Winter isn’t as busy as other seasons. There's less travel, and the work slows to a gentle pace. But just as important as our strength in the fields, we, the horses, provide companionship during the cold winter months.
Each day begins with a thick blanket of white snow blanketing Hayfield. We stand together, bundled up in our winter coats, warming ourselves beneath the sun’s gentle embrace, even on the coldest of days. As I turn my head, Daisy nudges me gently, her familiar presence a comforting balm in the stillness.
Our work is primarily indoors during winter. We’ll be carting hay and firewood to keep everyone warm, our efforts contributing to the very sustenance of the village. But for a moment, each day, I'll stand beneath a starlit sky, feeling the winter wind whisper secrets in my ears. I'll let the cold embrace me, the snowflakes like soft kisses upon my coat. Winter may be harsh, but there’s a beauty in it that only the horses truly know.
One day this week, as we gathered near the stables, we were given the news - the Royal Family will be visiting Hayfield in a couple of months! It seems, even here in our small village, the reach of the Crown spreads, and the world beyond our village holds an unspoken enchantment for even the quietest mare in Hayfield.
We are not often chosen to welcome those of noble birth, but the fact that horses are going to be used for such an occasion makes me both excited and proud. I’ve already heard murmurs of preparing special carriages and riders. It's a thrilling reminder of our place within the wider world. We are a part of history, a vital part of our communities, and this year, a tiny, grey mare with a splash of white in her coat will play a small part in the life of the King!
The journey has just begun, and I know the new year will be just as filled with experiences, as much of a blend of work and wonder as the one that has just passed.
Until next time,
Emma
This is a 2,400 word blog post which can be expanded to 4,000 by including:
- Adding to Emma's daily routine - her favourite foods, games she enjoys, how she grooms her fellow horses and is groomed by humans
- Expanding upon Emma's friendship with Daisy - their adventures and favourite moments
- Elaborate upon the traditions in Hayfield - the special foods they eat in winter, games they play around bonfires, celebrations they enjoy
- Go into more depth on the royal visit and the excitement within the village. How they will be preparing the horses, choosing carriages and creating elaborate displays
- Include Emma's reflections upon human culture and how she sees the relationship between horse and man. A bit of a philosophical side, but very appropriate to the blog post format.
Hope you enjoy reading and creating this!
