The sun sweeps across the meadows; Applejack snores, loudly, and rolls over in her sleep onto the picnic cloth, exhausted after a long session of applebucking. Rarity sniffs; it's poor form to fall asleep on a first date. The light changes, and the shadows of the leaves above move over her sleeping friend, patches of shadowy brown over vibrant orange. Suddenly, Rarity's fashion instincts erupt; she sees autumn dresses, amber silk. Just as quickly, she stops. She gave up trying to make Applejack fashionable a long time ago. Some things, she reminds herself, are better enjoyed just as they are.