Chapter 7 - Applebuck Season
In my early days at university, I picked up a rather interesting, and somewhat odd, trick to getting up early. A roommate of mine, who unlike myself, had gone to a public boarding school (public paradoxically meaning private) suggested it to me, claiming that it had always helped him get up at early hours. Instead of the usual suspects such as the Indian trick of drinking lots of water the night before or simply setting an alarm clock far away from your bed, so you were compelled to get up, he suggested something a bit more unusual. Just before you went to sleep, you head-butted, with some considerable force, the headboard of your bed, the number of times equal to the hour you wanted to get up. So, six thumps equalled waking up at six. When he first told me his ‘brilliant’ method, I figured that he must have banged his head one time too many. But for the hell of it, and since at the time I was suffering from insomnia and knocking myself unconscious seemed like a good idea to get myself to sleep, I tried it. And wouldn’t you know it, it worked, consistently too. Though I wouldn’t recommend using it too often.
It was this method that I fell back on when I settled down to sleep in my new room on Sweet Apple Acres. Having volunteered to help out on the farm for a day or two, Applejack had told me that I ought to be up and about by sunrise. So, I set my internal alarm for five.
And wouldn’t you know it, the next morning I did indeed wake up at five in the morning, right on the dot. I came to a little groggily, but was soon wide awake. For a few moments, while my mind tried to get itself into gear, I was somewhat scared. I didn’t recognise where I was, more to the point, I was again surprised by my pony body. Luckily, after a few brief moments of panic, my memory kicked in. I was Blade Star. Yesterday I’d awoken in the Everfree Forest, and found myself turned into a pony. The whole strange series of events came flooding back and I was quickly myself again.
Throwing off the bed covers, I looked about me. The room was fairly dark, but with a bit of luck, I was able to find my way over to the window and throw open the curtains. It was still dark outside, pretty much confirming the time. Out on the horizon, the first faint red, orange and yellow slivers of daylight were beginning to appear, just about making it possible to see the land before it. It was actually rather pretty. How long had it been since I’d gotten up with the dawn?
I was about to go on admiring the beauty of rural Equestria, when I was startled from my thoughts by a sharp rap at the door. I jumped up with a start and, surprisingly enough, let out a very horse like whiney.
“Blade Star? Ya up yet?” A voice called out. It was Applejack, who was evidently more of a morning pony than I was. I gritted my teeth and splayed my ears at her banshee like wail of a greeting. I turned to the still closed door and called back.
“Yes, I’m up, Applejack. I’ll be down in two ticks. Come on in if you want.” Walking over to the door, I opened it and found the orange country mare, hatless, though with her mane already tied up in a ponytail with her signature red ribbons. She smiled at me.
“Mornin’, sugarcube,” she said, in a softer tone of voice. “Granny’s just setting out breakfast, so y’all can come down when you’re ready. The bathroom’s just down the other end of the hall. Ah’d get a move on though. You’re gonna need all the Apple family vittles’ ya can get for today. It’s gonna be mighty busy.” I nodded in understanding and began using my hooves in an effort to sort out my dark blue mane, which was apparently just as difficult to control as my own hair had been.
“Okay, Applejack. Give me a couple minutes to make myself presentable, and then I’ll be right down.” I answered.
Applejack headed downstairs, leaving me to straighten out my room. It took a little bit of concentration, but I was able to make up the bed without much trouble. I actually started for a moment when I realised there were no clothes for me to put on. I suppose having that as a key part of your routine for over twenty years makes it a hard habit to break. I actually felt, for a few moments at least, a little self-conscious about stepping out into the hall.
At a steady trot, I made my way to the bathroom. It wasn’t particularly different from its human counterpart, and I was thankful to find a spare toothbrush for myself. I cleaned my teeth, which were themselves quite different, and a little weird if I’m honest, being the flat chompers of a herbivore, rather than the familiar set of meat tearing fangs humans tended to possess. I considered taking a shower, but given that I was going to be working all day today, and undoubtedly working up a sweat, and since I seemed fine as it was, I decided to head on down to breakfast.
Walking down the stairs, something I hadn’t done until that moment, I found myself a little off balance, what with my centre of gravity being in the wrong place. Still, I didn’t go tumbling down and found myself in the kitchen with both my pride and my neck intact. The Apple family were already there. Granny Smith was again at the stove, and the other three members of the family were tucking into their breakfasts. A fifth place had been set for me.
Sitting down, I soon found what I think was a bowl of what Americans call grits placed in front of me, courtesy of the Apple matriarch. Not too dissimilar to porridge in both taste and function. Along with that, on the table there sat a pitcher of apple juice, along with some eggs, toast, and pretty much everything that would make up a fried breakfast, barring of course any meat.
“Thanks, Granny.” I said gratefully as I reached for the pitcher of apple juice.
However, much to my surprise, all four ponies had paused for a moment, frozen in surprise. I looked up, a spoonful of grits hovering in the air.
“Er, everythin’ alright?” I asked, not noticing the subtle change. Applejack blinked and tilted her head for a moment in confusion. Eventually, it was Apple Bloom who asked the question.
“What just happened to your voice, Blade Star?” she asked curiously. “Last night ya sounded kinda like Pipsqueak, and now ya kinda sound like Big Macintosh.” Ah, this old party trick. I felt relieved that I hadn’t inadvertently committed some pony faux pas.
You see I, along with my mum and a few people on her side of the family, have this odd little quirk. If you put me near someone with a noticeable accent for a long period of time, say a couple hours or so, my own accent will subconsciously change, along with my syntax and general mannerisms. I don’t know why it happens, but I certainly don’t do it intentionally, and once it starts it’s pretty hard to get it to stop. I had, to my surprise, been mimicking the southern drawl of the Apples on and off since I got up. I quickly explained this, much to the amusement of the Apples.
“Well, that there is one mighty strange parlour trick ya got there, sugarcube,” Applejack declared. Big Mac and Granny Smith agreed, while Apple Bloom just seemed interested.
“Ah can try to keep a lid on it if it makes y’all uncomfortable.” I offered meekly, but this was quickly turned down by Applejack, who reminded us of that old phrase; ‘imitation is the sincerest form of flattery’.
After that, the five of us settled down to breakfast again, chatting about what we were all going to be doing today. As I went, I tried to listen to my own voice and to get an idea of what I sounded like. Apple Bloom wasn’t quite correct in saying that I sounded like her brother. No matter how much my voice changes, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to mimic that baritone. The best comparison I can give is that it was similar to Braeburn, though not quite as soft in the inflection. Eventually, I stopped paying it any mind, since it didn’t seem to bother anypony, and returned to my breakfast.
After we’d all finished, and I’d insisted on helping Granny Smith with the washing up much to her chagrin, Applejack, Big Macintosh, and I prepared to head out into the fields. Apple Bloom meanwhile headed off to the schoolhouse. That actually surprised me. Apple Bloom was still just a little filly, but here in Ponyville, it was seen as being perfectly safe for her to walk there and back on her own. But then again, this is also a place where ponies seldom if ever lock their doors.
Granny Smith meanwhile, after putting all the dishes, bowls, and utensils away, briefly turned and addressed me.
“Well, thanks for all your help, young’un,” she said in her kindly way as she smiled up at me. “It sure will be nice to have some extra hooves on the farm, what with Applebuck Season startin’.”
Ah, Applebuck Season. If I remember rightly, that was the first episode I ever saw. Each year, the whole farm had to be harvested as the trees all bore their fruit. And given the size of the farm, it would be a lot of work for the three of us. I smiled inwardly as I remembered the episode in question, and how Applejack, in her bull headed way, had tried to do the whole harvest herself after Big Mac was injured. Perhaps, in light of that experience, she was now more willing to accept a bit of help.
Granny Smith then walked into the front room and promptly fell asleep in her rocking chair, snoring loudly. That just left the three of us to quietly sneak out without waking her.
I followed Applejack out into the yard, with Big Mac following close behind. The stallion’s attitude seemed to be pretty much the same as it had been last night. He didn’t do anything, or even really say anything, but there was something in his body language and the way he looked at me that said ‘I’m keeping my eye on you’. As we headed out, Applejack explained what was happening.
“Okay, Blade Star,” she said. “Here’s how this is gonna work. We’re gonna work our way around all the orchards on the farm in one big circle. We’ll start out easy today and work on the eastern side of the farm. Ah reckon that if we can finish harvesting that side of the farm, we’ll be able to wrap things up by Sunday.”
“Sounds like a plan, AJ,” I replied. “How do ya want to organise us? Work in a team or each have our own section?” Applejack gestured to the seemingly endless rows of trees.
“All the orchards on the farm are pretty orderly like. And there are about a dozen or so rows in this section. If we each take four and work our way through, we should each have about the same amount of work to do. We’ll stop for a break at noon when it gets too hot, start up again at around three, and then finish come sundown.” I nodded in understanding. Applejack then turned to her older brother.
“Big Mac, y’all can take the four rows nearest the farmhouse, Ah’ll take the middle four, and Blade Star can take the furthest section.”
“Eeyup,” Big Mac answered. Again, he gave me something of a sidelong glance; evidently he was still sizing me up.
Before the three of us actually started on the trees, we first headed to one of the many smaller barns that were dotted about the farm. Applejack told me that these were used for storage, to save having to take everything all the way back to the farm house when we were actually applebucking. We soon came across one of these smaller barns, nestled amid the orchard we planned to clear today.
Big Mac lifted the wooden bar on the door and opened it up. Inside, it was mostly empty, with the exception of a few bales of hay and a couple dozen or so wooden buckets stacked on top of each other. It was these that we’d be needing.
You see, applebucking works in a set of stages. The first thing you have to do, before you can even think about taking a swing at the tree, is set up the buckets around it to catch the falling apples. This was easier than picking them all up one by one and saved quite a bit of time too. Once these were all set up, then you could actually clear the tree. A few hits later, and after checking that there were no hangers on still on the branches, and none that had missed the buckets, you had to haul them all back to the barn; hence why those smaller barns were built all over the place. The buckets could them be dumped into the carts that were also stored in the barn. And at the end of the day, we’d use those carts to take everything back to the main barn at the farmhouse, and from there, they’d be taken into town to be sold. So you can see why clearing four rows of trees on my own could be expected to take the better part of a day.
Mac hauled out three of the carts and left them outside. I noticed that each actually had a tow hook on the back, meaning that, if need be you could connect the carts together like a train.
We each then picked out four buckets. They were actually quite large and difficult to move about easily. I’ve never been the strongest person around, and it was a little taxing to pull the things even when they were empty. Still, I wasn’t about to start complaining about it. Stacking all four on top of each other, I followed the example of the two more experienced farmers and hauled the four buckets out to the orchard. It was here that we’d be splitting up somewhat to work on our own sections. So Applejack gave me a quick rundown on the subject of applebucking.
As a human, there was no way I could ever hope to accomplish much hitting the trunk of an apple tree with my feet, aside from possibly fracturing my ankles in the process. As a pony though, a strong buck from my hind legs probably had enough force behind it to do serious damage to someone. After all, I remember when I was much younger, a friend of mine had had to be flown to hospital by the air ambulance when she was thrown from her horse and it kicked her. So, it was of little surprise that I now could knock apples out of trees.
Of course, there was a bit of magic tied into the bargain as well. I probably would never be as good as Applejack or Big Mac, simply because I lacked the innate earth pony magic that gave them their unusual strength, stamina, and an innate connection to the land. Still, Applejack assured me that I’d still be able to do my fair share of work. The last thing I wanted was to be holding up the harvest.
Applejack led me over to the first tree I was lined up to clear and helped me set up the buckets around it.
“Alright, sugarcube,” she began. “First things first; when ya set your baskets down for the apples, try and put ‘em under where the apples are all bunched together in the tree. It’ll save time pickin’ up the few strays that miss.”
Following her direction, and using a combination of my hooves and teeth (despite my continued attempts, I hadn’t been able to get my own unicorn magic to do much), I placed the buckets in position around the tree, looking up into the branches to check that they were all roughly lined up. Applejack nodded in approval.
“Okay, now the real trick with applebuckin’ is findin’ the sweet spot in the tree,” she went on. “Every tree on the farm is just a mite different, but they all have one spot on the trunk that, if hit just right, will knock pretty much every apple off its branch. It’s easier for me and Big Mac, since we’ve been at it for a few years; it takes time to learn the right technique. So don’t worry if it takes a few kicks to get every last apple. And we do need every last apple, sugarcube. There’s nothin’ worse than leaving a perfectly good apple to rot away. Anyway, once you’re sure you’ve got everythin’, ya can haul your baskets back to the barn and put all the apples in the carts, and start all over again. Ya with me so far?”
“Yeah, Ah think so, Applejack,” I replied, nodding, and eager to start. Applejack smiled wryly and pushed her hat a little way back on her head, before stepping back and gesturing to the first tree.
“Alrighty then,” she said. “Let’s see what ya got.”
With everything set to go, I walked over to the first tree as Applejack and Big Mac looked on. Turning around, I practiced half kicking out a couple of times, since lashing out like this messed with my sense of balance somewhat, I needed to shift my centre of gravity over to my forelegs. With that done, I took a breath and kicked out…hard.
My rear hooves slammed into the tree with a solid thwack. The impact was a lot like swinging a golf club, and feeling it connect with the ball on a solid drive. Luckily, I’d kept my legs slightly bent at the knee to avoid the impact shooting up along my joints. Still, it was a fairly strong impact.
The trunk of the tree shook, as did all the branches, which quivered slightly. A moment or two later, the apples started to fall, one, two, three, then a fair stream of them. The surrounding buckets quickly took in their fill, though a few missed or bounced off the rim, landing on the ground. Looking up into the tree, there were still plenty of apples left to go, but for a first attempt, I seemed to have done pretty well.
Applejack let out a low whistle of approval, while Big Mac nodded slightly and continued to watch my efforts in silence.
“Well Ah’ll be; that ain’t half bad, sugarcube,” Applejack congratulated me, throwing a foreleg over my shoulders. “Another couple kicks like that and ya can start hauling the baskets back to the barn.
That made me smile, and stroked my ego a bit. I’d have been a bit embarrassed if all my efforts came to nothing. And while I didn’t have AJ’s knack for clearing a whole tree with one kick and not missing a single apple, I was still able to do enough to earn both her and her brother’s approval.
A couple more solid hits into the tree and Applejack agreed that it was cleared. Picking up the remaining apples off the ground by their stem in my mouth, I finished piling all the produce into the buckets. I now had to haul them off to the barn and place them in the cart. Applejack and her brother meanwhile, satisfied with my ability to do the work, set off to make a start on their own sections of the orchard.
The trip back to the barn seemed longer. The buckets were all noticeably heavier with their cargo, but try as I might, I couldn’t convince my unicorn magic to lend a hand. Still, it was probably just as well, since I knew that Applejack, while willing to see unicorn magic used if needed, preferred to avoid it if at all possible, relying on the more subtle innate earth pony magic of her own tribe.
So, by the time I reached the barn and had loaded the apples into the first cart, I was already working up a sweat. My body, which had exercised precisely once in its lifetime, protested greatly against this sudden taxation and exertion. Still, I pressed on, with a stubbornness not too dissimilar to Applejack’s. As I took the empty buckets back to the orchard, I laughed to myself as I remembered Applejack’s attempt to do all this by herself. I could easily understand why she was worn out in the end.
That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the morning. All in, I’d say there were the better part of thirty trees that I had to clear. It was damn hard work, and as Celestia’s sun rose higher and higher, and the temperature grew hotter and hotter, it became even more tiring. But we all pressed on, I even began to get into my stride and by tree number seven, it was no longer as painful, or at least I’d gotten used to it. I got into a good routine and actually began to enjoy the work. I actually like simple, repetitive jobs; it gives me time to think and reflect.
As I came to the end of the first row of trees, I found Big Mac, who was undoubtedly well ahead of me, waiting for me. The imposing red stallion looked over my progress with a practiced eye. Then, ever so subtly, he turned to me and nodded in approval, evidently satisfied with my work so far. This quiet gesture of respect hopefully signalled an easing of tension between us; it was a start in any case. He then returned to his own work as quietly as he had come, passing Applejack on his way back.
I was about halfway done, and sweat was all but streaming down my sides, when Applejack came over, announcing a halt for lunch. Honestly, I felt like collapsing in a heap. I’d hit a wall in my endurance about half an hour ago and had been running on empty ever since. Only my damn pride had kept me going, though I’m sure that if I’d kept going, the heatstroke would have taken that right out of me.
The three of us took all the buckets back to the barn and emptied what we had into the carts. As a humanitarian gesture, Mac hitched all three carts together behind him and took them to the farmhouse, leaving Applejack and me to follow.
“That’s not a bad bit of work for your first time out, sugarcube,” Applejack said as we walked. “Though ya really ought to pace yourself this afternoon, this ain’t a race after all, and we don’t expect ya to keep up all the time. Better to take a rest once in a while than end up in front of Nurse Redheart.” I laughed hollowly and smiled up at Applejack. My head was currently low to the ground as I tried to catch my breath.
“Sure, AJ,” I replied. “Ah’ll…Ah’ll keep that in mind.” I paused to wipe a few beads of sweat off of my forehead; my mane was already pretty matted too and I found myself wishing for a freak snowstorm or a lunar eclipse, anything to blot out that blazing sun.
“Anyway,” Applejack continued, far less affected by the strain than I was. “Let’s head on back to the house, get some ya some water and a decent lunch. Then we can rest up for a couple hours before we head back to work.” I nodded in understanding.
“Fair enough. Hey, do ya mind if Ah head into town to check on my folks?”
“Course not, sugarcube. Just make sure ya get a good rest, and be back here before we start workin’ again.”
“Sure.”
A little while later, I was feeling pretty bloated. Like an idiot, as soon as we’d got back, I’d gone and drank the better part of a full bucket of water. Add to that lunch, which at that point my body was also furiously demanding, and I felt a few stones heavier. Still, with any luck, walking it off would be the best solution. And since I wanted to check up on my parents and Lizzie, that seemed like the best thing to do.
So, promising Applejack that I’d be back well in time for when work started up again in about an hour or so, I started on my way back to Ponyville. That was actually the first time I’d walked that road in the daytime. I have to say, it looks much prettier in the twilight hours, but at least it was easier to see where I was going. Following the dirt road, I soon found myself coming across landmarks that were at least vaguely familiar, it would be a while before I was fully confident about finding my way.
Still, it wasn’t too much trouble to find Town Hall and the large statue of Celestia; I could find my way from there without too much trouble. The market was set up today, although since we were all busy with Applebuck Season, Sweet Apple Acres didn’t have its usual stall up and running. Still, the place was animated as ever, with a hundred and one different things being bought and sold and haggled over. And then of course, there were all the shops, including the ridiculous ‘Quills and Sofas’. How that store has managed to stay in business, I have no idea. And don’t get me started on how it has branches all over Equestria.
Following the semi-familiar route, I soon found myself on the right road and walking toward the library. As the old treehouse came into view, I thought it looked rather quiet, as a library should, I suppose. That assumption however, was promptly broken by what happened next.
With a startling bang, like a clap of thunder, and a sudden discharge of thick black smoke, the library briefly disappeared. As it cleared, I saw that the source of the smoke was coming from beneath the trees roots; that meant the basement. And before I knew it my once unsteady walk had turned into a trot, the trot turned into a canter, and the canter turned into a full on gallop.
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It's funny you mention this. I have a similar quirk, though I've learned to curb it a bit.
Being an American I never heard of it. It’s probably a south thing.
Doesn’t he feel weird saying that since she’s not his grandmother?
Oh I thought it had something to do with his horn.
HAY!!!
9035036
It's a psychological quirk related to stuttering. If you've ever watched the PBS show "Jacob Two Two" that's real too. I did the same thing when young but I grew out of it.
I'm sure both traits have fancy names but I lack the skills to find them on the internet.