As I walked toward the corner marker the view decreased slightly, but the view of Sweet Apple Acres became more beautiful. Nice place, them Sweet Apples had. The farm had been there several generations; I could see some of the old foundations, now abandoned, as the owners had replaced buildings for better drainage and placement. The place was big, several trails or dirt roads came together at the center. These Sweet Apples were powerful, they had gobbled up tracks on all sides for their orchards, but for such a large operation, they should have more store houses for their crops. How did they get all their apples to market? For a place of this size, I would expect to see a railroad spur come straight to the farm, but there wasn’t one.
Of course, what do I know about railroads, my grandpa says that it costs the same to run a train down the track once a day as it costs to run it once a year. “Repairs and maintenance” he would say. With only apples for a crop, the farm shouldn’t expect to see a train spur. Yet this farm had some open fields too, surly they planted other crops, like corn, beets, and tomatoes. I could see the corn fields. They were not too big. Probably subsistence corn farming for the dairy cows. They have dairy cows and sheep. This was perplexing. Why so many cows? And why didn’t they have a shepherd grazing the sheep up here on the mountain where nothing more than grass grows? I look at the farm again and estimated the work required a family of about 5 adults with some foals. The foals could do the shepherding. Did the Sweet Apples not have any children?
The view was distracting, I lost my pace count, but I could still see the corner marker stones. They were bigger than the one I had already visited. And as I got closer, I started to get that strange sense of being watched again. Could the stones themselves be watching me? This is Equestria, strange things do happen here.
As I arrived at the stones, I was nearly convinced that the stones were watching me. It then struck me that maybe some type of magic was at play. A magic to make you feel uncomfortable around the stones to suggest or reinforce the idea not to move them.
I drank some water from my canteen and rested in my compliance that magic was always at play everywhere in Equestria. I could see some of the Sweet Apples working outside in the fields and orchards below. A big red was plowing one of the fields. And an orange filly was kicking apple trees. I suppose that is good for the tree as long as it doesn’t damage the bark. The tree would respond by increasing circulation when getting kicked. I didn’t see any others; there was too much work for these two. Where were the others?
I scanned the apple orchard looking for that ‘old tree’. The apple trees looked healthy; this would be a good year for the harvest.
One tree caught my attention. It wasn’t an apple tree. It was something else, not particularly large, just different. It seemed so out of place. And from what I could see there seemed to be some type of structure beneath it.
I had a decision to make; I could go down to the Sweet Apples and disturb their work, or I could visit this strange tree. It looked to be in the right spot for the plot edge. I asked the stones “Is this a good time to visit the Sweet Apples?”
No response, what did I expect. Rocks and stones don’t talk, much, at least not around here, or so it seems. So I answered on their behalf “Nope, better stick with the plan of doing a walk about. No time for distractions”. Their silence encouraged me in my decision.
I used my compass and shot an azimuth from the stones to the ‘tree’. I jotted down a note, and started down off the mountain. I felt comfortable descending the mountain. After all I had the stones to watch my back. The grasses gave way to the scrub pines and mountain laurel, then came the oaks, mostly chestnut oaks; which in turn gave way to the hickory and maple and even some wild grape and dogwood. Finally, I arrived at the orchard. Except here the orchard seemed a little less organized. I would have to be careful least I lose my bearing. I continued walking looking for the building I had seen earlier. When I found it, I didn’t know what to expect. It wasn’t on the ground. It was some type of tree house. And the tree that it was in, was the ‘tree’ I had been looking for.
The sun was nearing its zenith, which made it just about noon. Some might call this tree old, since all the trees around it were apple trees, which had either been planted or sprouted up wild. I had expected something a lot older. This tree was respectable, but not what I would call ‘old’. As for classification, now that was the difficult part. It wasn’t a hickory or oak, but it did look like a mix between the two. Not doing much lumber work myself, I was mystified. I could understand why a previous survey might call it the ‘old tree’. But that by no means meant that this was the ‘old tree’.
Now, I had another reason to visit with the Sweet Apples. I bet their name was way off, they were probably sour apples.
The tracks on the ground seemed fresh. I reckon 3 young fillies or colts. The yellow color of the tree house didn’t provide any clues, but the little hearts on the window shutters suggested fillies. All probably in school at the moment, so I made myself at home at the little picnic table under the tree and reviewed my notes. The air had a sweet scent to it, I was relaxing a little too much. I almost took a nap; instead I got up and continued my walk about.
I got to the stream in good time, turned right and quickly got back to my little camp. I set up my tarps, gathered dead wood and stones for a fireplace.
Sitting down in the shade I dozed off to sleep.