Late Spring
May
Milk Moon
Spring showers have brought forth life in every corner of the lands. Wild animals are sighted making tentative, fiercely protective outings with their newborns, the streams are gurgling and flowers and greenery are everywhere. Livestock farmers are feeling the strain of long nights attending multiple – and sometimes overdue and difficult – births and are disheartened and made bitter at Talon’s wrath should their losses tally equal to, or greater than, their gains.
On the land, a certain restlessness sets in as all crops are planted and the watching and waiting begins. Prayers for frequent rains interspersed with bright days of sunshine are whispered before going to bed and the daylight hours are spent fruitfully; mending fences and dilapidated buildings, creating dams and clearing new land.
As the days begin to subtly lengthen and the weather to grow warmer, ground is frequently broken on new, important buildings, whether it be the home of newlyweds, a bigger and better barn or new stock yards. The farming community lives and breathes by the edict that many hands make light work and once crops have been attended to, they willingly pitch in to help one another out. Many a community meal is shared at this time, the recipients of the goodwill expected to cater for all the willing hands and hungry mouths that turn up to build their new structure (many a rift has been known to spring up at such times too; whether over the resentment of these hospitality expectations, sprung from the nervousness of planting in a dry spring time or borne of sheer jealousy that someone now has a newer, better structure than them is anybody’s guess!).
In the Keep, the term ‘spring clean’ is more than just lip service as everything is washed down, checked and mended before the fury of hot summer storms strike, looking for a feed of loose shingles or badly-grouted stonework. Masons begin laying the stones around foundations they’ve been laying for the past two moons and skilled crafters of every shape and form are contracted for new work that suddenly becomes vital in such luxuriant, burgeoning times.
Wandering bards and showpersons are seen frequently at this time, travelling newly mended roads in cordial weather, spinning tales such as that of the unnamed farmer in an outlying county whose ewe gave birth to a two-headed lamb or putting on puppet shows about fanciful love-matches between beautiful peasant girls and lovelorn royals. Some pre-tournament hopefuls may also arrive, scouring the quieter areas for talented swordsmen, jousters, fist fighters and archers amidst the common bloodlines, talent scouts for nobles or distant royals of outlying areas rebellious enough to sponsor their entry in the upcoming Oberon Castle Royal Tournament of the Corn.
