Thump. Thump. Thump.
I've always loved this time of year, more'n any other.
Thump.
Fall.
Thump.
Applebucking.
Thump. Thump.
Fluttershy has spring 'n her animals. Dash has summer 'n her flyin' tricks. Me 'n the family always had the autumn 'n our apples. Still do, I reckon. S'just that this time o' year takes me back to when I was a filly. Simpler times.
When we were little, Mac 'n I used to gather up th' leaves in big piles, 'n see who was braver by jumpin' offa higher and higher branches. Reckon we both got our fair share of broken bones tryin' to outdo one another. Don't have much time for things like that nowadays, with th' number o' helpin' hooves on the farm shrinkin'.
Thump.
The apples'll always be here, Mac said once. Years come 'n go, but we ain't gotta worry about the apples leavin' us.
I ain't a philosopher by any stretch, but I couldn't help seein' the wisdom in that. Ponies 'round here change 'n change, but the apples never do. Applebloom is growing so fast. Big Mac's gettin' old. These days, his kicks don't quite hit th' mark more oft'n than not. He tries to hide it but—
Thump thump thump.
Thump.
“Higher, Applebloom. You're hittin' too close to the roots.”
Thump.
“Much better, sugar.”
Thump.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I wipe th' sweat offa mah brow and let myself have a break. I lean against a tall maple tree mixed in with th' apple ones. A pegasus mailpony dashes by, rustlin' some of th' crisp brown 'n orange leaves from the top o' the trees. Not too far off, I can hear Mac's big hooves troddin' up a worn dirt path to a fresh tree waitin' to be harvested.
Really can get peaceful out here. 'Sides from the family 'n me buckin' them trees, there usually ain't a sound to be heard, other'n the breeze through the tree branches, 'n the occasional bird callin' out. Can't say I know as much about animals as s'me other ponies, but I do know that most birds do their singin' in the spring. Granny Smith used to tell us that wrens 'n mockin'birds 'n them only come out in the fall just to keep us company and sing us songs while we gather up food for 'em. Fluttershy tried to teach me how ta tell the difference between the different bird calls, but most of 'em sound pretty much the same to me, 'n I appreciate the company either way.
Off in the distance, I can see a li'l pink pony bouncin' towards the door to the house. I stop mahself from callin' out to let her know we're in th' fields. We've got a lot o' work to do, 'n Pinkie's only good for distractions on days like today. 'Sides, I'm sure whatever party she's plannin' will be just as fun minus one orange work pony. Speakin' of, back to work, AJ. Th' apples ain't gonna gather themselves.
Thump, thump.
Bloom's helpin' out in the fields for the first year. She's gotten bigger, but she's still hard to pick out in the sea of overgrown grass in these back acres. I think it's hard fer her to find her way in it, too, 'cause she's walked straight into about three or four trees by now. I think back to when I first learned how to buck from Granny and Mac. I wonder if I was that clumsy?
Thump.
“Ow!”
Heh heh... pro'ly was.
Thump.
Mac's goin' in for the evening. The sun ain't even begun to set yet.
Thump.
There's somethin' about seein' that orchard filled to the brim with apples every year that's mighty comforting to me. I tried explainin' it to Twilight, once. I reckon'd she was a smart pony, she might be able to get what I was sayin', but she started goin' on 'bout how t'were some sort of “metafore” in mah mind or somethin'. I told her she should stop tryin'ta put her big fancy words on it. Boy, did that get her bridle in a bind! Ya can't help but chuckle at it, though. Some ponies never change, really.
It jes' helps me think, 'n keeps me from thinkin' too hard at the same time. It's easy to get swept up in the movements 'n sounds, 'n let mah mind go wanderin', but it never wanders too far fer comfort.
Thump.
Ready, rear, kick, collect.
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
Hooves hittin' tree, apples hittin' ground.
Thump, thump.
Sun hittin' horizon.
Thump.
Thump.
A small voice hittin' mah ears.
“AJ?”
“Yeah?”
“...dinner's ready.”
“Jus' a few more trees, kiddo.”
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
“Applejack? It's gettin' dark.”
“...I know, Applebloom. Go get washed up, I jus' gotta bring these last few barrels in.”
Truth be told, I always dawdle a bit in the evenin'. Seein' the bright, pale moon light up all the freshly harvested trees, and all the ripe, red apples that're still left... It's just a sight that I doubt I'll ever get tired of.
But walkin' in from a hard day's work is always jes' a bit sad fer me this time o' year. Sure, I c'n buck harder 'n faster'n anyone this side of Appleoosa, but there's always that itchin' feelin' of “Coulda bucked one tree more, jes' one tree more.”
Course, with Bloom helpin' out, things go much quicker'n the past couple o' years, even with Ol' Mac's output dwindlin' down to nuthin'.
This old farm jes' ain't the same lately. It ain't felt like home for a long time. Or maybe it's us that's changin'. Yeah, that's more like it, I wager. Farm stays the same, ponies fall from its branches. Ponies come and go, apples come and go.
When it comes down to it, you can count on there always being more apples, and more ponies. But ever since... well, for a few days now, I got to thinkin' about th' farm, and th' family. Will there be anybody to take up where we leave off? It's gettin' less 'n less likely that Ol' Mac'll find himself a mare to settle down with, 'n Bloom... well, I reckon she ain't really cut out for life on th' farm. Bigger 'n better things in her future, much as I hate to say it.
So does that mean... s'all up to me to keep the Apple family goin'? Do—
“Applejack?”
I shake mah head. C'mon now, Applejack. There ain't no time fer lettin' yer thoughts wander off again.
“Twilight? What in Equestria are ya doin' here this late?”
“Well, I wanted to make sure you're okay, Applejack. No one has seen you in town for over a week, and the girls and I were starting to worry about you.” Even as dark as it is, I can see th' worry in her purple eyes. Ah, heck. Ain't a thing what c'n make an Apple feel lower'n gettin' her friends all fussed up over nothin'.
“Ah, y'all don't have to fret 'bout a thing, sugarcube. Y'all know we Apples're made of tough stuff.” My friends really do fret over me too much sometimes.
“Of course, Applejack,” Twilight says, tryin' her darndest to put on a comfortin' smile. Somethin' about it tells me she ain't leavin' 'til she hears what she wants, though. I hold down a sigh, and try for an easy smile instead.
“Really, Twi, I mean it. I just... I have a lot o' work. You know how crazy this time o' year can get on th' farm,” I mumble out. It ain't a lie, but I have a hard time even convincin' mahself when I try to twist th' truth. Even the smile I'm givin' her feels wrong, but I give it anyway. “C'mon, now, I'm headin' in fer dinner.”
I pause, noticin' she ain't followin' me. “I said c'mon, now. Y'all know better'n to come over this late 'n not stay for supper.”
“Oh, I couldn't, I told Spike I'd be back from my errands before sunset,” she says, “and I'm already behind schedule as is.”
Spike's gotten awfully big these past few months. Bigger'n most of the ponies in Ponyville by now, I reckon. Nobody wants to talk 'bout it, but soon he ain't gonna be able to live in that library with Twi no more.
“Aw, phooey, Twilight. Y'all c'n bend that schedule jus' a bit. And ya can take back some hay 'n applesauce fer you 'n Spike to share.”
Nobody's ever walked away from Sweet Apple Acres with an empty belly, 'n I ain't about to break tradition now.
“Well... alright. Spike will understand, I suppose,” she says slowly. She's got a funny look on her face. I'd almost reckon it's pity, but everyone 'round these parts knows better'n to pity an Apple. Apples are strong, 'n Apples always find a way. You can always count on there bein' more apples, and more Apples to boot. Apples find a way, always.