Big Macintosh Apple sat on the train to Ponyville and thought about rocks. Rocks came in all kinds of shapes and sizes and colors. Of course he usually thought of rocks as gray, and of gray as boring, but he had to admit that gray could sometimes be surprisingly elegant and beautiful. And there were other colors too. Geodes, gray and simple on the outside, were sparkling bright on the inside. Which reminded him that gems, of course, were also rocks. Gems in every color of the rainbow. Sapphires in stunning blue, rubies in brilliant red, amethysts in shimmering, sparkling, violet; a color he could get lost in.
He'd thought he'd known about rocks. There were certainly plenty of rocks on the Apple farm. They worked their way up through the soil over time, creeping into the fields where they had to be dug up and hauled away, lest they interfere with the growth of newly-planted apple trees and other, smaller crops. Mature orchards never needed the rocks removed, though. The roots of the full-sized trees grew around them, holding them still, so they didn't surface. That had been all he knew about rocks, and all he thought he'd ever need to know. Now, though, he just couldn't stop thinking about rocks. Big rocks and small rocks, rocks gray and otherwise. Rocks held in an apple tree's embrace.
He continued to think about rocks the next day as he went about his chores. In winter there weren't as many, the farm mostly slept. The Apple family did all the little things that had been neglected during the busy times; repairing and replacing and—when the weather allowed—repainting various bits of the farm. That took less time than planting or tending or harvesting, though, so the pace was slower, sleepier. He liked the slow times, when he could just sit and think for long hours about whatever took his fancy.
Just now, it was still rocks. He sat on the edge of a new field, due to be planted with sapling apple trees come spring, and stared at the snow-covered space. Somewhere under the snow rocks were slowly inching their way up through the soil, by some mysterious means he didn't understand. The ones nearest the surface would be dug up soon. Was that how a rock farm worked? The crystals he'd seen everywhere suggested that something other than simply harvesting ordinary rocks went on there, but he didn't know what.
"Ya been awfully quiet today, big brother." Applejack sat down beside him in the snow and looked up at him curiously.
Big Macintosh looked at Applejack without turning his head, raising the eyebrow on that side and smiling slightly.
Applejack chuckled. She knew him well enough to know what he was saying. "Yeah, I know yer not one for talkin' much, but I ain't heard even a single 'eyup' outta you all day long. Somethin' on yer mind?"
Big Macintosh paused and considered, as he always did, if it was worth saying anything or if he should just shrug and remain silent. At length he answered, "Been thinkin' 'bout rocks."
"Goin' to the Pie's place got the subject on yer mind, huh?"
"Eyup."
"I gotta confess I still don't get how rock farmin' works. They got such pretty crystals out in the fields, they gotta be doin' somethin', but I haven't the foggiest notion what."
Big Macintosh nodded. "Eyup."
"Same fer you, huh? I wonder if Twilight might know? Seems like that gal knows most everythin' about everythin' sometimes."
Big Macintosh tilted his head to the side, then nodded. "Maybe so."
"I'd never heard of rock farming before I met Pinkie Pie. There are so many topics to study, it's simply impossible to be familiar with all of them! I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to live in the days when a single pony really could keep up with every book being published. The research possibilities would be limited, but think of actually knowing the sum total of equine knowledge!" Twilight paused to take a breath and noticed Big Macintosh, who was looking at her with a somewhat bemused expression. "But right, rock farms. As I was saying, I hadn't heard of them before, but I've done a bit of reading since, and the subject is quite fascinating. I always knew that crystals grew, of course, but the idea of actually farming them, well!" She shook her head. "It's quite remarkable."
"Rocks grow?" Big Macintosh considered this. Were the boulders pushing up in the fields actually growing there, like weeds, then?
"Most of what we call rocks don't grow, no. They form through other processes. Igneous rocks, for example, form from cooling lava or magma. And sedimentary rocks..." She shook her head, pulling herself back on track. "Well, they form from sediments, of course, but crystals, which can be considered rocks, do grow."
"Like how plants grow?"
"It's not exactly analogous, the growth of plants is actually a quite complex organic process that converts sunlight and water into various other molecules that the plants use to build their tissues. Crystals grow through a much simpler process of repeating molecular structures. But I suppose there are some similarities, especially in the way plant growth habit and crystalline growth habit are specific to their particular species or crystal."
Big Macintosh chuckled. "So that means yes?"
"Well... it means plants and crystals have things in common, at least. As do rock farming and more conventional farming. Earth pony magic tends to be deeply involved in both, of course. I know that you Apples basically talk to your trees, telling them how to grow. I mean, I've seen Applejack literally talk to them out loud too, but you talk in a different way, through your magic, when you're planting and tending them."
He nodded. It was true. There weren't really words in it, but he didn't need words to tell the plants what he wanted, and he didn't need words to tell what it was they needed either. That was one of the reasons why he liked being alone with the trees.
"From everything I've read, it seems like rock farmers talk to their rocks in pretty much the same way."
Macintosh was silent for a long moment, staring into space past Twilight before refocusing on her and asking, "Could a regular farm pony learn to talk to rocks?"
"Probably!" Twilight smiled brightly. "It's always a little more difficult to learn skills that aren't directly related to your special talent, of course, but ponies do it all the time. I don't know if a unicorn or a pegasus could learn to do it, but somepony who already knows how to talk to plants could probably learn how to talk to rocks, given time and effort."
"Well, thank you kindly for the information, miss Twilight. I right appreciate it."
"It's no trouble at all. I love sharing knowledge with ponies." Twilight beamed at him. "And I love learning too. Maybe I should see if I can learn how to talk to trees, or to rocks. I still struggle with pegasus magic, but earth pony magic is completely fascinating, I just haven't had time to dip a hoof into it. Hmm. The library has an entire section on the topic, of course..."
Big Macintosh chuckled again and let himself out of the room. He wasn't sure she'd even noticed him going. Applejack's bookish friend was an interesting one, and quite a talker once you got her on a topic she liked. She'd also been quite helpful. He was still thinking about rocks as he walked back to the farm, but his thoughts had turned in a new direction. Now he was thinking about how to talk to them.
The saddlebags were a comforting weight across his back. They were packed full of everything he'd need for a week or two away from home, including a generous supply of apples. He could have carried twice as much, but there was no reason to bring any extra fripperies. He tightened the buckle holding them on and nodded in satisfaction.
Applejack gave him a quick hug, as did Applebloom and Granny Smith.
"Ya'll sure you'll be okay while I'm gone?"
"We'll be fine." Applejack gave him a reassuring smile. Then she ruffled Applebloom's forelock. "It'll give me a chance to get this here newly grown-up Apple more familiar with all the winter chores."
Applebloom ducked out from under Applejack's hoof and made a face at her, but then turned to Big Macintosh with a bright smile. "Maybe if you learn how to talk to rocks, you can tell them to stop coming up in the fields and we won't have to dig out as many when spring comes!"
He chuckled. "Maybe so."
Another round of hugs and goodbyes and he was on his way to the train station, where the Ponyville Express ran a line out towards the Pie farm. Thoughts of rocks still played through his mind, but a few thoughts of the apples he'd left behind joined them. He'd miss his family while he was gone.
The closer the train drew to the now-familiar rock farming country, though, the more his thoughts slipped away from the bright colors of apples to the subtler shades of rocks. Rocky hills rose all around him in familiar tones of brown and gray, and then suddenly the train pulled in to the station, and he got to his hooves to disembark. He found his heart beating just a little bit faster as he exited the train.
A little more walking and he was there. A thousand different colors spread out before him; white snow and multi-hued crystals, brown soil and gray rocks, topped by the great, looming grayness of Holder's Boulder. His eyes, though, went directly to one particular speck of one specific shade of gray. Marble Pie, standing among a field of crystals, her hooves worked into the dirt beside them, an expression of intense concentration on her face.
Big Macintosh walked slowly across the field towards her. She heard the sound of his hooves against the dirt and looked up. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she ducked her head, partly hiding her face behind her hair, and her cheeks flushed pink. She didn't say anything. He considered for a time, and decided to venture a "Howdy."
"Hi." Soft, almost a whisper.
He scuffed a hoof on the ground, feeling his own cheeks heat a bit, and looked away from her. She flashed a tiny smile in his direction, then went back to what she'd been doing. He watched with interest, wondering if she was talking to the rocks. What else would she be doing, standing there like that with her hooves in the dirt?
The silence stretched out, Marble's eyes half closed, Big Mac's shining with interest. It could have been an awkward silence, but it wasn't, really. Big Macintosh dug his own hooves into the dirt, feeling it. It wasn't like the dirt back home, rich with leaf mold and full of life. It was thinner dirt here, and dryer. Still good, though. He smiled. Marble looked up and smiled back. There was another long silence.
Then, in that soft voice, nearly as quiet as the tinkling whisper of crystals growing, she said, "I've been thinking, lately. About apples."