Clean Slate
By Alaborn
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 10: Jam
I could feel the pace of work on the farm shift. With cider season done, work continued, but without the restrictions of looming deadlines. There were late fall apples to harvest, plus leaves to knock off trees. But we only had a brief respite from these deadlines.
“The timber wolves are a-howling! The timber wolves are a-howling!”
Granny Smith’s cry came as a surprise to me. It was just a normal evening, being spent as a family in the living room. Apple Bloom and I were working on homework by the fire. I had noticed the noises from the forest beyond on several occasions, but in general tuned them out. And while timber wolves were frightening creatures, their howls weren’t dangerous.
Applejack must have noticed my confusion. “Diamond Tiara, that’s the first sign that the zap apples are going to come in. And that means we’re going to drop just about everything else and get ready,” she explained. “Now, pretty much everything is going to seem strange, but just remember, these are magic apples, and magic doesn’t always make sense.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Why don’t you come with me to the market tomorrow?” Applejack suggested. “There’s a few items I need to pick up, and I can tell you all about zap apples.
“But I have school tomorrow!” I protested.
“I’ll talk to Miss Cheerilee. I think she’ll be willing to let you go for the day. It just might help you remember something. So, do you want to come?”
I nodded. I turned back to my homework, but couldn’t help but wonder about these magic apples.
“Apple Bloom, why would these zap apples help me remember?” I asked as I crawled into bed, blowing out the candle.
“Last year, Granny Smith came to school, and told us foals about the founding of Ponyville. You were there as she talked about the discovery of zap apples and how she learned to turn them into a delicious jam,” Apple Bloom said. “And, you helped make the jam.”
“Me?” I wondered. That didn’t make any sense.
“Your father made you do it,” Apple Bloom explained. “But making zap apple jam is an experience that’s hard to forget. Maybe it’s still somewhere in your mind.”
I was quiet after that. I thought hard, but no memories came to mind. Hopefully, I would feel something soon.
“Applejack, why are we shopping in the marketplace?”
“We’re good on pots, but we’re going to need more jars for the jam,” she explained.
We needed more jars. We had passed a company that sold jars, Barnyard Bargains. My company, I reminded myself. But Applejack instead took me to the marketplace near the heart of Ponyville.
“But why get jars here?”
“It’s kind of hard to explain,” Applejack said. “Best explanation is, it’s magic.”
I looked at her curiously.
“Take canning,” she continued. “Every winter, we seal up fruits and vegetables to keep them safe to eat months later. But that’s not magic, just good old fashioned earth pony ingenuity. But zap apple jam, now that has to be kept in special jars. Granny says the jar has to be one that can be bit, and then not be afraid to bite back.”
Now, I looked at Applejack in utter confusion.
“Yeah, it doesn’t make sense. It’s magic,” she said.
I never really thought of inanimate objects as having feelings. But really, why wouldn’t they have feelings? At least on some level that wasn’t apparent on the surface?
We stopped at a glassblower’s stand, at least if the mare’s cutie mark was any indication. Applejack assessed each glass with a careful eye.
“Do you think you have what it takes to keep zap apple jam fresh?” she suddenly shouted. I jumped back. The mare at the stand raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t react; apparently, this was just par for the course.
I stared at the glasses. They didn’t look any different. Wait. There was something about the way the sunlight reflected off the glass. Some of the glasses shined defiantly, while others looked dulled after Applejack’s tirade. Applejack collected the glasses that shined, and negotiated with the mare at the stand.
After Applejack paid for the new jars, I asked her, “Is that what you meant by bite?”
“It works. Now, if Granny were here, she might actually have bitten the glasses. It’s a mite problematic, with her false teeth and all.”
Magic. I don’t claim to understand it.
“Next, we’re going to need honey,” Applejack said.
I pointed to one of the booths in the Ponyville marketplace. “I see honey for sale there,” I said.
“We need a lot more honey than one bottle,” Applejack said. “Keep an eye out for the beekeeper.”
We found her soon afterwards. Applejack nodded to her, then turned to the bees themselves. Her actions were confusing, a series of random movements, followed by offerings of flowers.
“We’re done,” she said.
“What?”
“I spoke to the bees, and they’ll provide the honey for the zap apple jam,” Applejack explained. “Sweet bees make sweet honey, and sweet honey is necessary for zap apple jam to taste the way it should. A bottle of honey? There’s no certainty that it will work.”
Applejack looked at my blank expression. “Look, I think the best thing we could do is have Granny Smith tell you about the founding of Ponyville.”
“And that’s the story of the first zap apple harvest! And it was the first product your great-grandfather, Stinkin’ Rich, ever sold in Barnyard Bargains!”
I sat there, smiling, my hooves pressed together under my chin, the rest of my dinner forgotten. That story was fascinating! It’s hard to believe that, as recently as the youth of Granny Smith, there was no such place as Ponyville.
“And you’ve been making zap apple jam ever since?” I asked.
“You betcha!” Granny Smith said.
“What’s the next sign?” I asked.
“There will be strange weather,” Granny Smith said ominously. “Dark clouds that defy the touch of even the greatest pegasus weather manager! And then, suddenly, lightning will course through the zap apple trees, and leaves will appear!”
“That must be some sight,” I said, awed.
We heard the rumble of thunder in the distance. I hurried to the window. Above the orchard, I saw the strange clouds form, a swirling miasma of gray. Lightning flickered above, but stayed confined to the sky. I watched the scene until a single arc of lightning descended from the clouds.
Applejack rested a hoof on my withers. I hadn’t even notice her step beside me. “That one spark of lightning makes the first leaf appear on a tree,” she described. “From there, the energy will flow over that tree, then moving to all of the zap apple trees. And after a few seconds, all the trees will be fully covered in strange leaves.”
Incredible.
“Rise and shine!” Granny Smith called from downstairs.
I blinked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The position of Celestia’s sun suggested it was near dawn. It was the weekend, so we didn’t need to get up. Was this another step in zap apple jam production?
Downstairs, the smell of cinnamon and apples attracted me to our oatmeal breakfast. But what first caught my attention were the mysterious articles on the couch. It almost looked like... fur?
Everypony was already downstairs, getting ready for breakfast. “Are we working on the zap apples today?” I asked.
“Eeyup,” Big McIntosh said.
“Now that the zap apple trees have their leaves, we’re going to need to water them,” Applejack said.
That sounded normal. In fact, breakfast was normal, with our normal conversations about school, the farm, and the goings-on in Ponyville.
As soon as I finished my oatmeal, Applejack said, “You ready, sugarcube?”
“Sure,” I replied.
Something soft pelted me from the living room. Apple Bloom had thrown one of those strange fur-like articles as me. I held it out, letting it take shape.
I was staring at a rabbit costume.
“Let me guess, it’s magic?”
Applejack nodded. “I don’t profess to know why the water likes being sung to by ponies in costume, but the zap apples taste off if you don’t do that.”
I shrugged, and squeezed into the costume. I didn’t much like the feeling of the costume. I was already feeling hot, since everything but my face was covered, and having my tail plastered to my rump was annoying. I kept trying to twitch it! I headed out, catching my reflection in a mirror on the way. I looked silly. I looked stupid.
Out behind the house, a number of watering cans were arranged in a circle. Granny Smith and Apple Bloom were there and in costume. “What do we sing?” I asked.
“The alphabet song!” Granny Smith replied. “Sweet and simple, and easy to sing while hopping.”
I had no problem remembering that song. I got in position, the three of us spaced equally around the circle.
“A one, a two, a three!” Granny Smith announced before starting to sing.
I started to sing as well. A, B, hop on C, D, E, hop on F, G. I glanced around. H, I, hop on J K, L M N O, hop on P. I felt hot. I adjusted my suit, trying to get some air under it. Q, R, hop on S, T, U, hop on V. I looked around again. W, hop on X, Y, hop on Z.
A drop of sweat trickled down my muzzle. I felt Apple Bloom’s eyes on me. I turned around, staring back. Apple Bloom twisted her mouth, a cruel gesture. More sweat. I wiped my brow with my fetlock.
“Are you okay? You don’t look good,” Apple Bloom said.
“Don’t look good?” I hissed. A drop of sweat worked its way into my eye. I stared at my nemesis through blurred vision. I looked away, squeezing my eyes shut.
“STOP MOCKING ME!”
I opened my eyes. The first thing I noticed was that it was cooler. I wasn’t in the bunny suit, and I was inside. I recognized that I was lying on my bed. I felt a wet rag on my forehead. Then I noticed the burning in my eyes, the soreness in my throat, and an itchy feeling around my nostrils. I had been crying.
I looked up, and saw Applejack, sitting on Apple Bloom’s bed. She had a look of concern on her face. “You gave us a big scare back there,” she said.
“I...” I started, before pausing. What happened back there? It felt like waking up from a nightmare, something bad enough to make me break down, but whatever it was remained hazy. “What did I do?”
“You screamed at Apple Bloom, and then collapsed. You looked flushed, so we brought you inside to rest. I don’t think it’s a fever. You don’t feel hot anymore.”
“What did I tell her?” I asked hesitantly.
“Something about feeling like you were being mocked,” Applejack said.
Feelings. As I tried to remember what had just happened, I shivered. It was a bad feeling. Embarrassment?
“Look, Diamond Tiara, I was hoping you might remember something, but if I had known this was going to happen, I never would have let you help out.”
“Applejack? Apple Bloom said I helped with the jam last year. What did I do?”
“Just that,” Applejack replied. “Your father told you to help us with treating the watering cans.”
“How did I react then?”
“Not like that. You were angry, like a foal being told to do something she didn’t want to do.”
I fell quiet. All this time, the only thing I was able to remember about my past was the occasional feeling. I didn’t doubt Applejack was being honest about how I acted. But was I remembering what I actually felt?
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I hope I didn’t ruin the zap apple harvest.”
“Don’t worry. Granny Smith says things will be fine,” Applejack replied reassuringly.
“If you don’t mind, I’d still like to help the harvest. Is there something I didn’t do last year that I could do today?” I asked.
“You didn’t water the trees last year. Why don’t you come help this year?”
I nodded and hopped off the bed. The shakiness of my legs had nothing to do with my injury. I followed Applejack out of the farmhouse, to where I had been previously. Two of the watering cans remained untouched.
Applejack nodded to me, and picked up a watering can in her mouth. I whispered an apology to the watering can, and took it in my mouth.
On to water the zap apple trees.
On Sunday, I found the Apples in the kitchen, mixing together red and white paint. This must be for the pink polka dots that Granny Smith talked about.
“Now be careful to get the mixture right!” Granny Smith instructed. “Two units of white paint to one of red! The zap apples like a very particular shade of pink!”
I stepped onto the tarp protecting the floor of the kitchen. “We’ll be painting polka dots soon!” Apple Bloom said.
Granny Smith inspected the work of her older grandchildren. “Now that’s exactly right! Let’s get to polka dotting!”
“Go ahead and grab a brush,” Applejack said.
I took one of the paintbrushes in my pastern. Big McIntosh poured the pink paint into shallow pans and placed them around the room. I dipped my brush and held it over the pan, letting the drips fall before beginning.
I stared at the paintbrush and my foreleg. The color of the paint was exactly the same as my coat.
“Is the fourth sign coming soon?” I asked.
“Should be tonight,” Granny Smith replied. “At least, if the pain in my left front knee is any indication.”
“Have you ever watched the stars fall?” I wondered.
“Not in a long time, Diamond Tiara. Once I figured out all the signs, I’ve let the magic run its course.”
I looked to Apple Bloom. “How about you?”
“No, I never did.”
“Do you want to watch for the fourth sign together?” I offered.
“Okay,” Apple Bloom said.
An hour later, the two of us walked into the orchard, the light of the full moon guiding us. We carried two heavy blankets, a pot of hot chocolate, and some apples.
“This is the place,” Apple Bloom said.
I remembered seeing these trees back during the harvest. What was so distinct about them was the complete absence of leaves. A good number of the trees in the orchard were now without leaves, but even several passes around the property still left the apple trees with a few lingering leaves. These trees? They had zero leaves then. Now, the branches were covered by odd leaves and strange blossoms.
“Back when we were harvesting apples, these trees had no leaves at all, right?” I asked.
“Eeyup,” Apple Bloom replied.
“I thought the trees were sick. Or dead.”
“They do kind of look creepy, especially during a summer night,” Apple Bloom said. “But it’s just the nature of their magic.”
We sat down nearby, but outside of the roughly oval patch of zap apple trees. As soon as we stopped moving, the night’s chill bit into our coats. We hastily got under the blankets. I sat next to Apple Bloom, a mug of hot chocolate between my hooves. I looked to her. She looked away.
“I’m sorry I got so mad with the watering,” I said.
“I know you didn’t mean it. It made you feel something, and that’s a good thing,” Apple Bloom said. “And I know it’s silly. Really silly. But there’s a difference between doing something silly to hurt somepony, and doing something silly because it works.”
“Based on Granny Smith’s stories, there’s a lot of weird things that are going to happen,” I observed.
“Polka dots, definitely. But if you think about it, even applebucking looks a little silly.” Apple Bloom stood up, shucking her blanket. She then balanced on her front hooves, lifted her rump in the air, and kicked out at a phantom tree before resting again on her four hooves. She was right. That did look silly, but I’d seen the power of those silly movements when applied to an apple tree.
I didn’t want to leave Apple Bloom the only embarrassed pony. I got out from under my blanket and set my mug down. I tried to buck like she had. In theory, the motions seemed so simple. But my first attempt had me fall back onto four hooves before even kicking. So did my second. I had kicked up harder, but still felt myself losing my balance too quickly. I tried one more time, and felt myself losing my balance in the other way. I fell, somersaulting forward.
“Are you okay, Diamond Tiara?” Apple Bloom asked, helping me to my hooves.
I nodded slowly. I’m going to need a lot more practice if I’m going to help out on the farm.
We returned to our blankets and cocoa. We stayed quiet, enjoying the night together.
A streak of light brought both of our gazes skyward. It so resembled the shooting stars that were part of Luna’s purview. But speak to other ponies, even those on the other side of Ponyville, and they would mention they didn’t see these shooting stars. A pair of streaks followed, and then a veritable explosion of starlight.
Finally, one last magical star crossed the sky. As it faded to darkness, the branches of the zap apple trees wavered. At the center of each blossom, a single fruit rapidly grew. Once finished, the blossom petals fluttered down, disappearing before they touched ground. And again, within seconds, these magical trees were covered in gray fruit.
“That’s not a natural color for a fruit,” I commented. “But it’s clear they’re not ripe.”
“Yeah,” Apple Bloom said. “Trust me, you don’t want to try picking them now. You don’t even want to touch the trees.”
We knew the fifth sign would happen sometime Monday. And as soon as that storm came, Applejack and Big McIntosh would work nonstop to harvest the now ripe zap apples. Apple Bloom received permission from our teacher to miss school Tuesday, to help with the harvest. I wouldn’t be joining them. That was fair, since I missed class Friday.
Zap apples were on everypony’s mind at recess and during lunch. I gathered that most of the students had eaten the jam before, and just like the cider, it was something they looked forward to each year. All their talk about the jam made me want to try it!
By the time we got home and stepped into the farmhouse, it was apparent the final sign hadn’t happened. The elder Apple siblings were still indoors. They tended to their chores and helped prepare the kitchen for making the jam, all with a feeling of anticipation and a hint of nervousness. Even though we expected it to happen sometime at night, everypony kept looking out to the orchard, wanting to make sure they didn’t miss the arrival of the fifth sign.
The fact that Granny Smith woke me up for school the next day told me that the fifth sign had happened as expected. Apple Bloom’s bed was empty; she had no doubt headed out at dawn to help her brother and sister. With just the two of us, the farmhouse was quiet. It reminded me of my days here, back when I was still in recovery.
During school, my mind was back on the farm. I hoped everything was going well. I found it hard to concentrate. I do hope I wrote down the homework assignments I was taking home for Apple Bloom correctly!
Once I got home, I collected a bag of apples and a bucket of water, and carried them out to my family. They all smiled and accepted the refreshments eagerly, Applejack tipping her hat. The zap apple trees were almost completely harvested by now. That made me smile.
By dinnertime, the harvest was complete. The cellar was filled with the multicolored magical apples. But nopony was in the mood to celebrate yet, as plenty of work remained. Dinner consisted of cold leftovers, because the kitchen was set up to cook the zap apple jam. We ate rapidly, so we could get to cooking the jam.
And cook we did! Apple Bloom got to make the first batch by herself, albeit with Granny Smith watching carefully. I was curious, so I watched as well. After heating the stove to just the right temperature, she mixed the chopped zap apples with honey and pectin. She stirred the cooking mixture carefully. It didn’t look like much, a muddled brownish mixture the consistency of syrup.
Then, something happened. The pot glowed, all colors of the rainbow visible. And when the glow faded, the mixture in the pot was separated into the colors of the rainbow. Even as the mixture was stirred, the colors remained distinct.
Apple Bloom took the jam off the stove and poured it into the waiting jars. None of the jars cracked under pressure, and the jam remained brightly colored. Even though I had just eaten dinner, my stomach grumbled.
“It’s got to cool down beforehand,” Applejack cautioned.
With the first batch complete, everypony crowded into the kitchen. Zap apples were chopped, jam was stirred, and jars were assembled. Four pots of jam were cooking at all times, until exhaustion began to overtake us.
“I think it’s time to enjoy the fruits of our labor,” Applejack said. “Apple Bloom?”
The filly headed into the kitchen, opening the first jar of zap apple jam with her mouth. Big McIntosh was already slicing a loaf of bread. Once she had a slice of bread in front of her, Apple Bloom dipped a butter knife into the jar, and then spread the jam on the bread.
“Your turn, Diamond Tiara,” Apple Bloom said.
I nodded and entered. I gripped the knife in my pastern. It was just thin enough that I had trouble gripping it, and I eventually needed to use a second hoof to steady it. I spread the jam on the bread, marveling at the way the colors remained distinct, six swaths of color.
And finally, the taste test. I raised the bread to my mouth and took a bite. The flavor was like a blend of apples and cherries. No, apples and pears. Apples and blueberries. Each twist of my tongue brought out another flavor from the zap apple jam. This jam was incredible!
After we each enjoyed bread and jam, Applejack herded us into the living room, where we huddled together.
“Good job, everypony!” Granny Smith said. “It’s a bumper crop of zap apples this year! And that’s a lot of jam!”
“There’s still a lot to do,” Applejack added. “Granny, you get your rest tonight. The zap apples want only your best as you make more jam tomorrow. And I’ll be out front tomorrow, selling this jam and making a lot of ponies happy.”
“Eeyup,” Big McIntosh said.
“Now you two have school tomorrow. Get a move on!”
Apple Bloom climbed onto her bed and pulled out her math textbook. She had worked in the orchard longer than I had, so she wasn’t yet finished with her assignment. I headed for the bathroom first.
By the time I returned to our bedroom, Apple Bloom had completed her homework. She finished packing her saddlebags and pushed them into the corner. She untied her bow, letting her mane fall free, and headed to the bathroom.
I stared at the bow, now just a long ribbon. Trying to hold the knife this evening reminded me that I’m still not physically on par with my family. I tried gripping the ribbon in my pastern, but it slipped out. Using both forelegs, I was finally able to lift it.
Tying a bow. It was a feat of dexterity that a pony of my age should have mastered. I put the ribbon into my mane and tried to form a loop. Both ends of the ribbon slipped out of my grip. I sighed.
“What are you doing?”
I turned to Apple Bloom, in the process revealing her ribbon hanging from my head.
“Don’t touch that!” she yelled.
I scrambled to get the ribbon out of my mane, ending up with it falling to the floor. Apple Bloom gasped, and rushed forward. She picked up the ribbon with her mouth and carefully placed it on the nightstand.
I turned away and crawled into bed. I chanced a look at Apple Bloom, and found her staring daggers at me.
I wanted to explain what I was doing. How I just wanted to practice tying a bow. How I had noticed my mane falling into my eyes as I had been working this last week. How it was just a ribbon.
It wasn’t just a ribbon, though. I could tell by the anger on Apple Bloom’s face.
“I’m sorry,” I squeaked out. “I won’t touch it again.” Apple Bloom turned away in a huff.
This is not the kind of jam I wanted to get into.