Friday, 27 April
It's been rough this first week. I've forgotten what hard work was, but I'm relearning it awfully fast. This isn't the hardest work I've done, or the longest hours, but the combination sure is taking some getting used to. The first thing taking getting used to is waking up early. We took our time starting the day back at Mr. Tock's, but not here.
These Apple folks are hard workers, and they expect you to do likewise. Some bosses laze around and nag you, but the Apples are out there working twice as hard as you. Makes me feel bad if I can't keep up.
And no pony can keep up with Mr. Mac, because he's one of the strongest ponies I've ever seen. He could've taken the place of two ponies, maybe three, at the lumber camp. One thing you learn right away about him is he don't waste time nor words. Not that Miss AJ's does either, she's a hard worker too, but she talks a lot more. Sort of like Doc.
We're working with them until we get the hang of what we're supposed to do. Then we'll be our own crew. According to Miss AJ, that'll happen in a week.
Right now, we're all doing cleanup work. Miss AJ and I haul carts, while the others take down dead branches. They load the carts, we haul it all off to at the edge of the woods, dump them, and do it all over again. I have to hustle to keep up with Miss AJ, but if I fall behind, she always says something encouraging. No nagging or yelling like those factory bosses, just stuff that makes you laugh and try harder. She's right good to work with.
Now that we've been here for a while, I've started to realize the size of this place. It's at least five times bigger than the farm I grew up on. The last few years I've been kicking around cities so much that I'd forgotten the country can be a beautiful place. At this time of the year it's like a dream with all those trees covered with white and pink blossoms. Even at night that sweet smell is everywhere. You know, I don't miss the smell of Fillydelphia one bit.
Time to stop writing now. It's getting late and I need my rest. The sun keeps coming up earlier every morning, and there's never a shortage of work.
Tuesday, 1 May
Today I learned things aren't perfect here, but the one who should've learned something was Shorty. I'm not sure he did though. His big mouth got him in trouble with the Apples this afternoon. Miss AJ and I were coming back from emptying carts, when we saw Shorty arguing with Mr. Mac. Doc told me later Shorty was trying to tell him the best way to take down some branch, and Mr. Mac was having none of it. I could see Doc trying to get things cooled down, but Mr. Mac sure was looking sore.
Right away, Miss AJ got unhitched and galloped over to them. By the time I got there, she'd sent Mr. Mac off so he could cool down. I could see him in the distance, bucking trees like he was trying to uproot them. Once he was gone, Miss AJ let Shorty have it. That's the first time I've seen her cross. Now I know I don't ever want be on her bad side. She dressed Shorty up and down and then put him back to work.
I got sent to work with Mr. Mac for the rest of the day while Miss AJ worked with Doc and Shorty. When Mr. Mac saw me coming, he stopped kicking trees and stood there watching me. I think my voice broke when I told him I was supposed to work with him. Without saying nothing, he got back to working like nothing ever happened. He didn't say a word util it was time to head back for supper.
Working with Mr. Mac was fine, but listening to Shorty grouse about the Apples tonight is too much. Doc's trying to be sympathetic to him, but I think that's just Doc trying to keep the peace. As for me, I think that nopony cares how Shorty thinks things should be run. This is the Apples' farm. They pay us to do what we're told. Shorty should be thankful he's got a decent job instead of running his mouth all the time.
Monday, 7 May
The three of us are on our own crew now, but we're still cleaning up. Last week I mentioned to Miss AJ about the big snow we had in Fillydelphia. She told me that's the storm that damaged her trees. She also said Granny had some “none too polite words” for the Weather Patrol because of it.
I guess I'm grateful for that storm. Without it, the Apples wouldn't have so much cleanup work, and they wouldn't have taken the three of us on. Of course, I didn't tell Miss AJ that. It would have made her cross.
Everything's got her worried about her trees and this year's harvest. She's looking forward to a summer of good weather to help the trees recover. It's been a long time since I've heard that type of talk. When you work city jobs, ponies only care about the weather so they don't get their manes wet. Ma and Pa always fretted over the weather, worrying if it was too hot, too wet, too cold, or too dry. It seems no matter how well tended the weather may be, a farmer's mind can't never rest. I guess I forgot about that type of thinking, seeing as I left our farm so long ago.
Things are a bit tough for the Apples right now, but they don't let it get them down. They just keep working and have faith that things will work out. You got to admire that.
Sunday, 13 May
Today is Mother's Day. The Apples are off to some ceremony somewhere in the south orchard. They didn't tell us no details, and I wasn't about to ask. Private like stuff.
Yesterday, they got a big picnic spread prepared for themselves as well as a ton of food for us. Today, the three of us had our lunch alone, and afterwards, I took my book and sat under the trees to do my reading and writing.
I haven't been around a real family in years, so maybe I don't know what I'm talking about, but I think the Apples are kind of special. They're real tight knit, and you can see that in how well they work together. Now, that don't mean they don't have no arguments, far from it, but they never let it get mean. I guess that's how a family should work, but I wouldn't really know, since mine didn't work that way at all.
Seeing that it's Mother's Day, I'll have to write about Ma. I'd like to say what a swell life I had with her back on the farm, but one thing she taught me was it ain't right to lie.
Ma had a problem. That problem started with the farm and ended with Pa. Something was wrong with our farm, something in the soil. Even I could feel it, and I'm not really a farmer. I think Pa thought he could fix it at one time. He just needed to work out the right combination, then he could make it work, but he couldn't seem figure out what that combination was.
Ma knew something was wrong too, and she wasn't about to let Pa forget. At one time, I imagine Pa must have been like Mr. Mac, strong and proud. I don't know for certain, but I'd like to think so. From the time I was old enough to remember, Pa was half broken, and somehow, Ma thought words were going to fix him.
It would start every night at supper and just keep going. They'd fight over anything, but money was their favorite. They'd fight and fight and nothing would ever get better. What Ma didn't do with her words, Pa finished himself with drinking. The last two years I spent on that farm were a misery I don't never want to see again. Like Pa, all I wanted was a little bit of peace. So I left.
I must be a bad son for thinking like this on Mother's Day. Sometime I wonder if either of them are still alive. If they are, are they still be on that farm? Maybe Sis runs it now with a family of her own. I'd like to think that maybe things got better, that one day Pa figured out how to fix the soil, and that all the fighting stopped.
But if I went back, I'm afraid I'd find out otherwise. I'd rather live without knowing that.
Tuesday, 22 May
Doc and I played chess again after supper. He taught me to play back at the lumber camp, but I was never any good. After all this time, I've forgotten all the strategy he tried to teach me. I don't have to say that he won both of the games we played, but it was still fun.
Shorty was bored. He don't play chess and won't learn, no matter how much Doc pesters him. After I lost for the second time, Shorty suggested we all play cards, that is, play cards for money.
Doc was up for a game and said, “I drink and gamble, always enough, but never too much.” I'm not much for gambling myself, but I wouldn't think of spoiling Doc's fun.
We played for about two hours, and Shorty kept winning hand after hand. Doc's a smart player, so he held his own. Not me, and like a fool, I kept expecting my luck to change. It never did. Doc ended up losing a few bits, but I'm out more than a week's pay. The game broke up when Doc said he was getting tired, but I think he was tired of losing more than anything else.
If losing all that money wasn't bad enough, Shorty got up in my face and says, “Next time bring more money.”
I stood up. I don't know what I was thinking of doing, but Doc saw I was mad and got between us. He joked that we'd contributed enough to the Short Line retirement fund for one night and sent us back to our bunks.
I'm glad Doc's dragged him outside for a walk, because I didn't want to hear him shuffle those damn cards anymore. Being alone's helping me cool down. I've got to thank Doc for doing that for me.
I shouldn't be surprised Shorty acted that way. All you have to do is listen to the way he talks about everything and everypony. He thinks he knows everything and can do and say as he pleases. I realize it's my own fault for losing that money, but what he did was uncalled for. One day somepony will set him straight.
Tonight's been an expensive lesson, but I've learned not to play cards with him ever again.