The beans knees
Sunset Shimmer slowed her car just long enough for the booth attendant to notice her state parks pass and wave her on. After she left behind the madhouse that was Beanis Inc, she figured she’d spend the next few months living off her not-insignificant savings account and just clear her head. That began with spending her previously saved Bermuda funds on a therapist, who suggested that she re-define her relationship with plants.
Even though she remained a staunch vegetarian, her time with Beanis had forced her shopping trips to become increasingly anxiety-ridden; always steering clear of anything legume-related. Canned goods were giving her heart palpitations; the produce aisle was a death trap; she couldn't look at other shoppers carts. One of her neighbors had made beans for dinner the other night, and she broke down crying in her apartment. Her therapist had suggested that she visit the local arboretum to see the beauty of nature in a form most never did.
It took a search of her online dictionary to learn that “arboretum” basically meant a tree museum. She found herself drawn to it, if only to see what made a tree museum-worthy. She was not disappointed, since immediately past the toll booth, she saw a pine tree that rivaled the sky for “bluest object in sight”. She parked her car and took out the map she’d printed out.
Apparently, the gem of this particular park was a weeping beech tree large enough to fit a house underneath. A short walk led her to said tree, and it certainly lived up to the claim. Signs pointed to a wooden walkway actually built over and under the swooping branches, using steps where necessary. Sunset parted a few leafy branches and marveled at the sheer size of the ancient arbor. Countless lovers had taken the opportunity to carve their initials into the wood, and Sunset had to admit, some had gone to impressive lengths to make their carving the highest up. She took out her phone camera to zoom in on the highest carving and adjusted the lens to bring it into focus.
The words “Hail Beanos” made themselves known. Sunset put away her phone and left the tree behind.
She looked down the large lawn that the tree occupied, gracefully slopping until it met a wide river. She could just imagine Rainbow Dash challenging everyone to a race, and charging down the lawn, eager to be first. She sighed and followed her imaginary friend towards the water. Following the gravel trail upstream, she looked across the water to see the opposite shore lined with houses. She smirked, thinking how all those people had probably paid millions to have a waterfront view, and here she got the same thing just for living in the same state.
One house in particular drew her eye, and she couldn’t help but grin. While almost every home had its own dock, this homeowner didn’t have a boat moored nearby; instead having an enormous, inflatable, pink flamingo raft.
“Pinkie would get a kick out of that.” Sunset thought. She snapped a photo of the raft and promised herself to send the picture once she had a signal again. That was another reason she’d come here, It was a cellular dead zone. Perfect for serial killers, and tired office workers who just didn’t care anymore. Sunset didn’t see a difference at this point.
The trees here were nothing of interest by themselves. What was interesting was how every tree seemed to have a large collection of woody bulges clustered in the ground near the base of each tree. Sunset knelt down to get a closer look but couldn’t make heads or tails of them. Were they roots? Saplings? Or mayb-
“AW, THEY LOOK LIKE TINY BEANISES!” Sunset whirled about at the sound and saw two older women looking past her.
“Um, I’m sorry, what?” she stumbled out.
“Oh, my apologies dear, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The shorter of the two said. “My husband just bought me this most wonderful, um, tool. I just looked at the knees of these here Cyprus trees and saw a similarity. Isn't it wonderful how our minds can draw inspiration from the world around us!”
Sunset Shimmer forced a smile and stood up “Um, yeah, it’s definitely…different.” She didn’t let the woman respond before hurrying on down the path. The fact that another group of Cyprus “knees” had been dressed up in little hats and googly eyes by a rather eccentric park worker didn’t help her mental imagery.
Sunset turned away from the river and trudged up a short hill into the heart of the arboretum. Here the trees were enormous, but nothing stood out to her. After reading the plaques near each one, it became clear that most of these trees were noteworthy for reasons only Twilight could love. One had branches that went at a 90-degree angle instead of a 45 degree; another was simply growing at a rate unprecedented for its species, and still others were simply mutants. It was like comparing lime green leaves and grass green leaves. As she thought, Twilight would have been gushing over these little details.
Sunset found a paved path, the first she’d seen since arriving, and found herself closed in by sharp, thorny, bushes. She pulled out her map and was told she was standing in the holly walk. In a different time of year, these plants would be called “Mistletoe” and would have cuttings taken by homes wanting a festive excuse to drunkenly make out. She decided to follow her therapists’ advice, and simply appreciate the differences in each plant. Such differences came down to leaf shape and color, and she eventually lost interest, until a particularly dark and foreboding holly loomed on her side.
She looked at the plaque, and properly beheld the “Hedgehog Holly”. Apparently, in the family of plants known for being spikey and thorny; this was the one that was named for being spikey and thorny. Given the lack of mulch and collection of dead leaves underneath, even the landscaping crews wanted nothing to do with this abomination.
Sunset suddenly had a thought, and her head went on a swivel. “Everything here is so green, and so lush. We’ve only had one decent rainstorm all summer. How do they keep everything so well-watered?” She didn’t dwell on the idea; it wasn’t her problem. Nothing was her problem anymore.
She exited the holly walk and noticed that she was near the toll booth, and that blue pine tree from before. Now on the opposite side of it, she saw that it had a pair of golden pine trees just out of sight of the main road. Clever planting.
A red dash caught her eye, and her breath caught in her throat, as a fox flitted through some nearby hedgerows.
“I didn’t think Canterville had foxes.” She thought
“Fluttershy would love this place!” She tried to catch the fox on camera, but it proved to be quicker than herself. She conceded defeat and continued down the path.
She came to a three-way split in the road, which was marked by a rustic-looking building right where all three paths met. A sign above the door marked it as “YE OLDE PUMP HOUSE”. Sunset chortled and walked through a gap in the fence to see what all the fuss was about. She was mildly disappointed to find that, despite the aged exterior; the interior held a very modern looking water pump, connected to an imposing control panel. Scattered around the interior of the building were various wrenches, clamps, sprinkler heads, and bits of pipe. Signs of a well-equipped, but concerningly disorganized plumber.
“Well, that solves my watering problem.” She thought.
She continued down the road, and any disappointment she felt at the pump house evaporated when she found herself in front of an obviously old cow barn. She gawked at the ancient, yet still active structure as she wandered into a garden of flowers that were about sunflower height, but of every other color. A giant sign noted that she was now within a “Dahlia garden” and she took every second to love it. A trellis in the center held a bench that Sunset sat down on, enjoying the rays of sunshine that found their way through. A birdbath nearby held a few flower heads that had either fallen or were placed on purpose.
“What would Rarity think of this place? She’d love it out here.” Sunset pictured her friend oohing and aahing over the wide palate of colors around her. She enjoyed the sounds of bees and the sight of butterflies.
After a few more moments of solace, Sunset got up and walked the rest of the way through the garden, and beheld a sizable chicken coop. The hens scurried about their business, scratching and pecking as chickens will do. Sunset smirked and ripped a patch of grass out of the ground with her hand. She threw it into the coop and watched the chickens cluster around it.
“Dance puppets, dance!” She muttered.
Shaking the thought away, it suddenly dawned on her. No more Beanis Inc, no more having to clean up after anyone, no more concerns over Mexican food. She was out. She was free, She was-
A shrill “Caw-ca-caw-ca-cock!” rang out. “Uuuhhhhh,” Sunset asked. “What was that?”
“Oy, that’s my line!” A dangerously hippy man replied. “We just started accepting composts from this local business that only elaborated about “products that failed quality control”, so we decided to add their donations to the field mulch and feed the difference to the ladies here.
A short, but well-toned and tanned man rolled up in a golf cart. Sunset felt oddly attracted to his natural vibes.
“Even after plant mulching, we still had a mountain of rotting bean paste, so we figured our hen harem here would like some variety in their diet”. The sexy farm stand stud elaborated.
“However, these beans have caused what is normally a 1 in 10,000 mutation to happen 1 in 100 hens.” He explained. As yet another hen declared herself a rooster.
“Genotypically, they’re still hens, but without going into details, these beans are creating super-macho-HERMAPHACHICKENS.”
Sunset had had enough. She fled the park screaming. Applejack would be hearing about this.