//------------------------------// // Chapter Three. // Story: Seasons // by I_Regret_Nothing //------------------------------// 1004 A.D., Autumn Applejack studied the list Rarity had made and forgotten when her fashion disaster had struck. Like its author, the shopping list was dressed to the nines; embellished with flourishes of penhoofship only magic could create, each item carefully placed just-so onto a sheet of custom boutique stationery. It carried a faint scent of vanilla perfume. The cowpony had initially rolled her eyes in dismissal. All this effort - delicate cursive writing, and special paper? Who had time for that for just a list of groceries? But her thoughts returned to Apple Bloom’s prying question, and to her response. It’s important to Rarity, so it’s important to me. The farmer had stopped trying to make heads or tails of the seamstress’ quirks a long time ago. At this point they were almost endearing. The two fillies escorting her to market were chattering away. Sweetie Belle, overjoyed to be freed of the barren boutique, was pressing Apple Bloom for information. “You’ve got all that farmland, and you’ve never grown watermelons?” “We ain’t,” Apple Bloom insisted, “Granny says the ground ain’t right for ‘em. They just rot away or turn right to mush.” Sweetie Bell screwed up her face. “Wait, what’s the difference between rotting and getting mushy?” Apple Bloom shrugged in exasperation. “Ah don’t know, Ah just work there.” “Watermelons just don’t take to Ponyville soil,” Applejack interjected, “it don’t get hot enough for long enough, so most o’the seeds never sprout. Those that do get sick and go ta rot on the vine.” “Oh,” the crestfallen pale unicorn replied, “I wanted to try one after hearing Pinkie Pie talk about them at that bonfire a couple moons ago. She said they’re her favorite fruit, and if anypony knows sweets…” she trailed off and looked at Applejack with eyes the size of saucers. The stocky earth pony laughed in the filly’s face, earning a surprised look. “Just like yer sister. Sweetie Belle, you can just ask if you’re wantin’ somethin’. Yah don’t got to go an’ give me the puppy dog eyes.” Sweetie Belle blinked, taken aback. She stammered but Applejack continued on. “Watermelon’s almost out of season, so they’re more pricey now. If Ah’d known you wanted one Ah would’ve got one for that midsummer bonfire. But if we’ve got enough bits leftover between Rarity’s errands an’ mine, we’ll see about pickin’ one up.” She winked for good measure, and that got Sweetie Belle to giggle. Applejack reviewed their list again. For Rarity: two liters of bottled mineral water, a dozen eggs, three bundles of fresh flowers, a loaf of bread, two jars of honey, three bushels of kale and one bushel of arugula, and soap and shampoo. That seemed easy enough. The Apple family grocery list shared enough stops with Rarity’s that they wouldn’t be going too far out of their way. Apple Bloom snapped her big sister from her thoughts with a simple question: “Can we grab some breakfast?” “It’s brunch time,” Sweetie Belle offered matter-of-factly. “And we already ate before leavin’ the farm,” Applejack replied, “Ah saw you put away that muffin with mah own two eyes.” “But Ah’m hungry, big sis,” Apple Bloom protested, “and those griffon scones smell so good!” The little filly did have a point. Applejack knew her way around an oven, but a nearby merchant’s wares impressed her. The griffon baker behind it did his best not to scowl at the crowd, though his sharp beak, talons, and intimidating navy-blue plumage did him no favors. Spices Applejack had no hope of guessing held Apple Bloom’s full attention. The older pony realized too late that the pastries had her in their grasp, too. It was a shame nopony stopped to sample the griffon’s wares, especially after he had traveled such a long way. Applejack stepped up to the baker and ordered three of his freshest scones, dropping some bits into a terracotta jar on his stand. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle thanked him - without prompting, she noted with no small satisfaction - and they continued on their way, eating as they trotted down the street. “First stop,” Applejack tried to say, a mouthful of dry scone impeding her, “we’ll pick up the mineral water from that salespony. Ah remember her cart up ‘round this corner, an’ Ah could use a drink myself.” The two fillies, all smiles now, nodded in agreement. Applejack greeted the pony at her cart and ordered three glasses of cool water for her and the fillies. The merchant turned to a large keg under her tent and exchanged the drinks for a few bits. Thirst quenched, Applejack thanked the pony and asked, “Ah’ll also take two bottles of mineral water.” “Great,” the salespony replied, “would you prefer water sourced from Neighagra Falls, or the Whitetail Woods?” Applejack blinked in confusion. “What’s the difference?” Sweetie Belle interrupted them: “Rarity wants Neighagra Falls water, she says it’s the only spring pure enough.” “Someone knows her mineral water,” the merchant said approvingly, smiling and lifting two glass bottles onto the counter, “you won’t find a clearer wellspring in all of Equestria.” “Seems awful picky to me,” Applejack grumbled, passing over some bits. She set the bottled water into her saddlebags, thanked the salespony, and began walking to the next stall. “Is Rarity this picky about all her groceries?” Applejack asked cautiously. “I guess so,” Sweetie Belle answered uncertainly. A look of revelation washed across her face and the little unicorn continued brightly, “But I can help! I know lots about what she’s wanting.” “That’d be mighty helpful of ya,” Applejack responded, “the sooner we get these chores put away, the sooner we can find y’all a watermelon.” From there they visited the town florists’ shop, which did double-duty as a produce co-op on busy market days like this one. Valley Lilly and Daisy were running behind the counter, taking orders and setting out prepared bundles of flowers. Roseluck had just finished helping another customer when Applejack stepped up. The cowpony consulted her list again and looked up to the raspberry-maned mare. “Ah’d like three bushels of fresh-cut flowers, please.” “Sure thing,” Roseluck answered politely, a thin, expectant smile dressing her face. “And which flowers would you prefer?” Applejack cringed and looked to Sweetie Belle, who was similarly taken aback. “D’you know what kinda flowers yer sister likes?” “Um,” Sweetie began, then hesitated. An awkward silence suspended between them and Roseluck’s gaze wandered impatiently to other waiting customers. “Purple ones?” “Lilacs?” Roseluck asked politely. Then she recognized the little filly and sighed gratefully, “You must be here for Rarity’s standing order. She picks up a few arrangements of fresh lilacs, tulips, and lavender buds every few weeks. I’ll be right back with them!” The mare hummed to herself cheerily as she stepped into the back. “Well, thank Celestia for that,” Applejack breathed in relief. She took half a dozen bits from her saddlebag and gave them to Apple Bloom. “Ah’ll wait here an’ pay for Rarity’s flowers. Y’all go ‘round back an’ get the greens from Carrot Top. Sweetie Belle, d’you remember what to get?” “I do!” the filly answered excitedly, bobbing her cotton candy-toned mane. “Three bushels of kale, and one bushel of arugula.” “Mighty fine,” Applejack said approvingly, “an’ Bloom, just tell Carrot Top yer there to pay fer the Apple family order, an’ I’ll be ‘round in a bit to pick it up.” Roseluck returned a few minutes later and sold Applejack the flowers, then thanked her for their business. "Give my best to your brother for me," the florist called out hopefully as Applejack left the shop. Lunchtime had come and past by the time they made it out with the fresh greens, so Applejack allowed the fillies to stop and grab some pretzels from a nearby street vendor. Sweetie Belle had wanted a cheese-filled pretzel and now Applejack was wrassling with how to explain the mess on the filly’s coat to her older sister. Up ahead loomed a tall tent patterned with honeycombs. The local beekeeper, a lanky gray stallion, was busy inside reorganizing jars of honey. Seeing their opportunity to get in and out before another line could develop, Applejack dashed inside and asked, “Two jars of honey, please.” The bookish stallion, a friendly mailpony named Parcel Post, looked over his shoulder and greeted them. He kept his beehives on land neighboring Sweet Apple Acres. “You’re after local honey today, Applejack? Or something imported?” “Ah’d be just fine with what we’ve got here in Ponyville,” Applejack answered reluctantly, “but Ah’m doin’ a friend’s shopping today, an’ her tastes are a mite-different from mine.” Apple Bloom whispered something conspiratorially to Sweetie Belle and the two fillies giggled. “That’s kind of you,” the beekeeper answered patiently, “but with the harvest on, allergens will be in the air before you know it. A local product would be a good ward against that.” Applejack chewed on that thought. It made sense, and what difference could it make if Rarity had honey harvested here in Ponyville, or off somewhere else? “Good thinkin’,” she said confidently, “Ah’ll take two jars of yer best honey, local all the way.” “Do you know which varieties your friend prefers?” The tall pony looked at the the two Apples, then turned an appraising eye to Sweetie Belle. “Unless I miss my mark, are you lending a hoof to Miss Rarity Belle?” Applejack nodded in thanks. “Ah am, she’s awful busy at her boutique. D’you happen to know which honey she likes the best?” “Oh, Miss Rarity has sampled all of my wares. The local offerings are sourced from alfalfa, apple, aster, basswood, blueberry, buckwheat, clover, dandelion-” Applejack wanted to scream. Why couldn’t it be as simple as grabbing a jar of honey and swapping it for a few bits? Why were so many ponies so picky? “Apple,” she said suddenly, interrupting the beekeeper, “Ah’ll take two jars of yer finest apple blossom honey.” The stallion smiled in recognition. “That’s a good choice, Applejack.” They traded bits for jars and Applejack stalked out of the tent shaking her head, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle trailing her. “All’s left is soap and shampoo,” she grumbled in irritation, “how hard can that be to sort out?” The crowd was thinning out as the afternoon sun began its descent, most ponies’ errands run. On the way to their final stop, the three ponies passed the Apple family apple stand. It looked like Big Mac and Granny Smith had seen a good day’s business; no fritters or apple pie slices remained, though a few bushels of red fruit from the southern orchard remained, shining in the sun. Applejack had meant to just offer a friendly nod and wave at her family, but Apple Bloom had other plans. “That’s Big Mac an’ Granny!” the little pony insisted, tugging on her big sister’s hoof. “Ah’ve got ta go an’ see ‘em!” “Bloom, we live with ‘em. Ya saw ‘em both this morning.” “But that was then! An’ now they’re here! Ah wanna tell’em all about what we did today.” Applejack’s eyes narrowed. “Ya want ta go an’ tell ‘em about grocery shoppin’.” “Yes,” Apple Bloom replied, voice very serious. “An’ Ah can tell ‘em about the new spices Ah got from that griffin-” “Ya what?” “Cardamom! Cloves! An’ some others. Ah talked with that griffin baker, Gilroy, who we got those scones from fer breakfast.” “Brunch,” Sweetie Belle said insistently. “Second breakfast,” Apple Bloom compromised, withdrawing a few canisters of dried spices from her saddlebag, “but Ah think these new spices could go great in Granny Smith’s bakin’! Ah wanna tell her all about ‘em!” “Apple Bloom Apple-Smith,” her older sister began, expression shrewd, “did you pay for them spices?” Apple Bloom looked insulted. “Yes! Ah paid with ‘em with my own allowance. I fixed some cabinets at Sugarcube Corner for Pinkie Pie an’ she gave me the bits.” She lifted her chin proudly, challenging Applejack. This filly really is growing up too fast. Applejack sighed, then allowed, “Go on an’ see your big brother an’ granny. Ah’ve got just one more stop to make before droppin’ all these groceries off with Rarity, so y’all stay put here at the apple stand.” Apple Bloom’s smile was beaming and victorious. She and Sweetie Belle ran over to join the other Apples. Applejack bought a dozen fresh eggs from a stall set up further down the road. Mercifully, they were all the same and Rarity’s pickiness wasn’t a problem. She made a note to herself to start bringing eggs along with her weekly apple deliveries - the henhouse on their farm made more than the Apple family could cook themselves, even in spite of Apple Bloom’s growing appetite. A baker’s cart across the street had sold everything but a few honey-oat loaves, so Applejack purchased those, too. The ivory soap was an easy find, but her luck didn’t hold out with the shampoo. The shelves were packed with dozens of varieties, maybe a hundred. The cowpony looked down the cavernous aisle without hope. It was madness. She checked the list again to make sure that Rarity had not specified a brand or scent; no such luck. The vendor was a traveling merchant, too; the disinterested pegasus behind the counter was watching the sun descend to meet the horizon. She wouldn’t be of any help for finding what Rarity wanted. Applejack’s thoughts returned to her busy seamstress. Which shampoo would she want? Land sakes, what did the prissy unicorn even smell like? There, that was a breakthrough. She could almost hear Rarity’s sing-song “idea!” calling through her head. Resolute, Applejack did the only thing she could. She started with the first bottle of shampoo. She opened it, sniffed, and put it away. No good, onto the next one. The bell chimed as Carousel Boutique’s front door opened and shut, but no greeting from the owner accompanied it. Applejack thought she heard her friend curse under her breath from the kitchen, so that’s where she went. She was in luck. Rarity was sitting at her kitchen table, head resting on her hooves and a tea kettle heating up on the stovetop. The unicorn was a mess, but it looked good on her. Loose hairs from her indigo mane stood out in contrast against her silver-gray coat, and she had washed most of her makeup away after finishing her work for the day. Rarity looked up and grinned slowly, worn out from her hours in the assembly room. “Applejack,” she began warmly, “I am oh so grateful for you taking the time out of your day to go to market for me,” her eyes searched the doorway around Applejack, “and for escorting dear Sweetie Belle around town. You’ve been my own knight-errant. But where is she?” It was Applejack’s turn to smile wanly. “Her an’ Apple Bloom ran into little Scootaloo on their way back here. Ah guess Twilight is havin’ a harvest moon sleepover at the library to show all the colts an’ fillies the stars.” “A night of stargazing? That sounds delightful,” Rarity thought for a moment, hoof tapping her chin, “and I do suppose we have nothing on the agenda tomorrow.” The unicorn’s eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared, ears flat to her head, “At least Sweetie has a freed schedule. I will be receiving an emergency shipment of stock from Canterlot to be adjusted.” Her grumbles about Charming Chic and conniving fancy ponies trailed away as she noticed Applejack’s saddlebags filled near to bursting. “Applejack, come set those down. Carrying those groceries all day must have been exhausting.” “Sure thing sugarcube,” Applejack answered in thanks, stepping over to empty her bags, “least it’s fer a good cause.” Rarity jokingly rolled her eyes. “I’m no charity case, darling.” Together they spread the bags’ contents across the table. Rarity turned an appraising eye over everything and a small voice in Applejack’s mind whispered cautions about having gotten the wrong variety of honey. The tired cowpony ignored it steadfastly. “You know,” Rarity said while inspecting an amber honey jar, “it occurred to me that I had not specified what I was looking for. Yet you’ve managed quite well in finding my favorites. “But I have to ask,” her voice turned suspicious, setting aside the honey and levitating a bottle of shampoo, “How did you even find this melon daiquiri blend, much less know it was what I was hoping for? It’s a rare thing among Ponyville wares.” “The best things are,” Applejack replied easily, surprised at how smoothly the words came to her, “it just seemed like somethin’ ya’d like, so Ah got it.” Something flashed across Rarity’s face, but her expression remained still and smiling. A memory? “Still, you have been an amazing help for me today, Applejack. I’m not quite certain how I may repay you in my time of need.” Applejack stepped awkwardly from one hoof to the other. Where had her confidence gone, wilting under the unicorn’s steady gaze? “Well,” Applejack started, remembering a promise, “Ah told yer little sister Ah’d get her a watermelon - talk o’ yer fancy shampoo reminded me. But Ah mighta run outta spare bits for it,” the cowpony chuckled anxiously, “promise ya won’t remind her? We ain’t likely to see anymore watermelons ‘til next summer anyway.” “Of course, darling,” Rarity replied, “I doubt Sweetie Belle would like trying it, though. Too many seeds, and her magic is not keen enough to deal with them yet. But is that all you’ll ask of me?” Applejack swallowed, then surveyed the greens, eggs, bread, and honey spread out on the table. They nearly had a meal already, after some quick assembly. The nerves came screaming back into her head and she crushed them ruthlessly. “How about dinner?”