Apple of my Eye

The sun peaks above the orchard, and a distant rooster crows, signaling the official start of morning. Carefully now, carefully off the couch, wouldn’t want to collapse to the floor. Heh, an upgrade, isn’t it? From bench to couch in one day. Progress! Hah! I should write self help books.

No, wait, I think that market is cornered around the minotaurs. Or minotaur, rather. I shouldn’t knock him; he did a wonder for the people my old town when he visited. The wall-eyed goats I would rather leave than take, but beggars can’t be choosers and such.

The green couch offers little conversation in return. I wonder if eggs will. Opening the door, however, reveals an orange mare already at the stove, the sizzling of something in a cast iron pan filling the room, and the smell of cooking batter filling the room

“Mornin’, Green,” Applejack greets without looking from the pan. She smiles at the cooking food.

“Good morning, Applejack.”

Accenting the sizzling pan, the entire kitchen looks busy. Bowls, bags, cartons, jugs, and more litter the limited counter space. It looks like some pony tipped over a fridge onto them.

I tap my hoof briefly on the wooden floors before uttering, “Do you, um, want any help?” What else is there to do this early?

Applejack finally looks away from the stove, surveying the chaos around her. “Sure, if you want. You can start putting the ingredients back. I’ve pretty much made what I need, anyway.”

“Alright, sounds good.”

She turns back to the pan. One step forward, one step back. “Dry goods in the pantry, expirables in the fridge.”

“Okay.”

Time passes slowly as Applejack stirs the mixture in the pan and I stare at the open bag of flour, wondering how in Equestria I am to put it back. Also, how was Applejack able to get it out in the first place? Patience and determination, I think. Well, who dares wins, yeah?

As I reach for the bag, Applejack sparks small talk. “So Green, we never got the chance to actually talk before. Did we?”

Looks like I’ll be moving this thing with my hooves. “Uh, no. Not… really…” Careful, careful.

“So, you’re new in town, right?”

“Yes.” Didn’t she ask that yesterday?

“Where are ya from?”

“Some little village NorthEast of Manehattan.” Little, now there’s an understatement. This farm is easily bigger than that place. And it’s run by a fraction of the ponies, too.

“I see. And what made ya wanna leave?”

The million bit question. “I didn’t see eye to eye with my neighbors.” Or my family.

“Oh?” The scraping of the spoon on the pan softens to near nonexistent. “What happened?”

“Schooling, mainly. I lived in a relatively poor community, and there wasn’t enough money to do anything formal. I wanted to move on to Manehattan to study my talent; they had other ideas.”

“Sorry to hear ‘bout that.”

“It’s alright.”

The stirring resumes. “Is that why you left?”

“Yeah, that’s… that’s why I left.”

She goes quiet, leaving me to my work. Lying isn’t bad, right? No pony is able to tell the whole truth all the time. Necessary evils. At least now I can move these things with my mouth rather than fumble about with my hooves. By the time I’ve closed the pantry door, Applejack declares breakfast done. Also about that time the other three file into kitchen, each taking a respective seat at a nearby table as Applejack begins serving them.

On each plate is a stack of three pancakes. Five plates, fifteen pancakes. Why isn’t my cutie mark numbers? Applejack begins eating, as does Big Mac and Granny Smith. Apple Bloom, on the other hand, has hardly touched her food. Come to think of it, the plate sitting before me looks in nearly pristine condition as well. I’m waiting for the syrup, but the filly has it. Wonder what she’s thinking. Probably how come I have to be her mentor. I’d like to know, too, but I also want to keep my new employment. Between poverty and a confusing place. Deja vu.

“Apple Bloom,” Granny Smith speaks up, looking at the dejected filly. “Why, you’ve barely laid a hoof on your food. Somethin’ on your mind?”

All eyes land on the little pony. She looks at me, then to her sister. “Why do I have to be looked after? I’m a big pony!”

“Yes you are,” Applejack reasons, letting her fork down and cupping her chin in her hooves. “But neither Mac nor I have time ta teach ya ‘bout apple buckin’. We got work ta do, and little time ta do it, ya understand? With an extra set of hooves, we would all be in a better place time wise with our schedules. And heck, even with some actual training, ya might just get your cutie mark!” She finishes with added, genuine gusto, and it reflects in the filly’s eyes.

“Really? Ya think I can?”

“Definitely.” She shoots the elder mare a wink, who responds with a smirk to her pancakes. Big Mac just does… Big Mac over there in his seat. He seems to genuinely enjoy the food, completely detached from the conversation unfolding around him.

She looks at me once again, thankfully without dejected eyes. “Alright. I suppose I can try it out for today. Y’know, see how he does and all.”

“Glad ta hear it, Sugarcube.” Applejack smiles at the filly, earning a smile back. “Welp, time for work. Green, stick with me, I’ll getcha in on the basics.”

“Uh, okay.” Singled out.

The apples are quick to leave the table, the eldest retreating upstairs, Big Mac opening the door for an excited Apple Bloom, and shutting it behind him, leaving Applejack and I alone.

“Follow me, Green.” She gestures for me to follow as she walks out the door. Cracking my neck, I follow.

Soon after, we arrive to an endless row of apple trees, and another beside that one, and another beside that, and another, and another, and another. They go on forever! Up hills, filling the contours of the landscape, at the peaks of what look like mountains. The only break from them is the spot we’re standing it, a clearing made specifically for the house, barn, and… that’s all, really. The Apples are not given enough credit for their supply.

Applejack approaches a tree and turns to me. “This here’s an apple tree.”

Well then, ‘basics’ really does mean basic. The next lesson is hopefully more specific. Probably about the apples on the tree.

“This field’s the red delicious apples.”

Nailed it.

“Then are are golden delicious, mcintosh, granny smith, zap apples, honeycrisp, gala, braeburn, so on.”

“Uh-huh… Wait, did you say ‘zap apple’?”

“Sure as sugar did. Only farm this side of Equestria to have ‘em, too!”

“I’ve heard of them! Little is actually known about the trees, though. They say that a… a ‘ritual’ is needed before they even blossom!”

“Well, I don’t know about ‘rituals,’ but we do have to make sure everythin’ goes exactly right!”

“I’ve never had Zap Apple Jam… What’s it like?”

Applejack pauses, bringing a hoof to her chin in thought. “Think sour but with a kick. Electrifying.”

Wow. “Where are the trees?”

“Over there,” she nods to a distant patch of trees near a forest. “But that ain’t for another couple months.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t worry nothing about it, time passes quickly on the farm. You’ll be sinking your teeth in some zap apple jam in no time!”

“Hopefully.”

“Now then!” She takes a commanding lead, ushering me to the first tree in a long line. “Apple trees are living things like the rest of us.”

Does she not know I study trees? Have I not flashed my flank to this mare yet?

“Ya can’t beat ‘em to get whatcha want, it’s a give an’ take.”

Her twang has returned. It seems more natural when she discusses apples or her family. Why does she hide it otherwise?

“Always kick jus’ off the base o’ the tree, it’s low enough to provide a good shake to the branches, but high enough as ta not damage the roots.” She rears back, sending her back legs into the tree with a resounding thwack, then turns to me as apples pour all around her. “Got it?”

“I think so?”

“Then give it a try.”

She walks to the next tree in line, drawing an imaginary “x” where I should kick, then steps back. She’s just watching with an even stare, not cold but not welcoming, either. It’s certainly not encouraging. Even as I make my way to the tree, she just follows me with her eyes. I’m going to hurt this tree. She knows this. Her raised eyebrow says enough.

Now or never. The lump in my throat prevents a comforting swallow, so I turn away from the tree. Deep breath. Rock forward on your hooves. Hunch your legs, and… Swing!

And Nothing. There was no resistance, only the time being filled with silence as my back legs flop lazily in the air before coming back down to the soft ground. The grass is parted where my hooves landed. Applejack noticed, switching from leg to leg, back and forth, back and forth, just looking at the ground. She’s definitely checking out the hooves. Clearly. They’re not that funny, though.

“Why not try again? Actually bucking the tree this time?”

“Right…”

Alright, take two. Once more, with a little less failure. I like that idea. Reposition myself, take two steps back, er, three for safe measure. Ignore Applejack’s gaze at all cost. Rock forward on my hooves, hunch my back legs, and… kick! Luckily, a resounding ‘Thwak!’ fills the orchard, and some apples fall overhead. Applejack is nodding slightly, looking at the base of the tree.

“Alright, good first try. You’re too high, kick a little lower. Might help to also see where you’re kicking, too.”

“Right.”

Take three. Take stance, rock forward, rear legs, and kick. Lower this time. Another ‘Thwak!’ and the apples come tumbling down this time. Like bright, plump, red rain. Applejack smiles and rests a hoof on the tree.

“Good job. Forgot to look back, but ya got it.”

I am amazing.

“Try the next one.”

I retract my statement.

I walk to the next tree, Applejack in tow, and ready myself. Checklist gone over, rear forward and kick! Another bout of apples rain into the baskets. Hah! And they said my bucking skills would go away from not practicing. Whoever “they” are...

“Not bad,” Applejack praises, looking at the tree. “For a beginner, anyway. Way I see it, you’re looking at two, maybe three kicks per tree to get whatcha want.”

Improvement! It’s slight, but improvement nonetheless. “Thanks, Applejack,” I offer.

She shakes her head. “I didn’t do nothin’. Now then, get bucking. We got a lot of work to do, and little time to do it!”

She happily trots to elsewhere in the orchard, well beyond my sight, leaving me to buck the remaining tree in the line. And the next line, too. And probably the one after that. That looks like a lot of trees; best get started.

Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck.Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Next Line.

Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck.Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Next Line.

How does Applejack do this? It’s so monotonous. By the third line my muscles have gotten used to the motion, leaving my mind to wander. Speaking of muscles, or lack thereof in my case, they burn! Like the sun blazing over my head, they burn! Can’t stop now, though, I’ve completed two and a half lines, and another three stare at me. Can’t show weakness yet!

But I’m not build for kicking these trees. Leave that work to the strong earth ponies like Big Macintosh and Applejack. I study them. I figure out what’s inside. I learn how to help them! I can make these trees healthier. Like this one.

It’s weak. Not sickly, just weaker than the rest. The constant kicking in the same place has made this side softer. They need to alternate sides. A few more seasons of bucking, and this tree will lose all phloem travel on this side. The entire tree will suffer!

A soft prod, and the bark gives easily to the pressure. The other side, however, is still solid. Perhaps bucking this side will offer a better result? Well, only one way to find out. Roll forward, and kick! A solid thwack resonates satisfyingly around into the empty air, and hey, all of the apples fell on the first try. Efficiency!

Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck.

Still doesn’t solve the monotony. Fourth line, though. Three more to go. Just… just power through.

“Heya Green!”

“Agh!”

“Eep!”

Oh, oh Celestia, it’s only Apple Bloom. “Hi, Apple Bloom. What’re you doing here?”

Apple Bloom’s smile fades instantly, and she paws the ground. “Applejack sent me over here. Said I should be learnin’ ta buck trees. Figured she just wants me gone.”

“I can imagine that,” I respond, nodding.

“Hey!”

Oh that came out loud! “I mean, er, I can imagine you learning to apple buck…?” Please buy it, please buy it, please buy it.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Uhm… okay then?” Speech. Master. “I’m supposed to teach you, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what Applejack says. Ah don’t understand why she has to treat me like a child so often. I’m a big filly; I can manage on my own!”

“I’m sure you can,” I offer. She looks at me, for the first time, with interest. “Of course, no pony knows everything about everything, so it helps to grab as much information as you can from as many ponies as possible. Variety is the spice of life and all that.”

“But my sister knows everythin’ about farming,” Apple Bloom says doubtfully.

“She might know everything about apples,” I rest a hoof on the tree that was about to rain its glorious red fruit down, “but I know everything about these beauties.”

“Like what?”

“Come on,” I wave my hoof, “I’ll show you.” I point to the tree’s base, the clear dent made from years of practiced bucking.

Apple Bloom looks quizzically at the soft patch of bark, obviously missing the whole point of the image.

“Poke it,” I say.

She prod the edge of her hoof, her eyes widening when it sinks into the bark with little effort. “It seems… I dunno, softer than I thought wood would be.”

“Yeah, that’s what comes from years of bucking in the same spot. Every year the flesh grows weaker, meaning ya’ll have to buck harder. It’s a horrible cycle that only kills the trees quicker. Come.” I lead her to the other side. “If ya’ll alternate where you buck on the trees, the trees might last longer. Of course, they still will need to be replanted every so often.”

“I didn’t know ponies could affect trees like that.”

“Of course. Trees are living things like the rest of us. The only difference is they prefer silence. Ask your sister, she’ll probably say the exact same thing.”

“Wow, how come ya know so much about trees?”

“Well…” Story time, fillies! “I grew up on an orchard, and it is my cutie mark, after all.”

The filly takes a moment to inspect my flank before nodding and facing me again. “Do ya think I could earn my cutie mark in trees?”

“I can’t say no,” I answer, “But I think you might want another cutie mark.”

“Why’s that?” The filly halts her prodding of the tree and turns her eyes to me. Do I dare?

“Trees are…” I press my hoof against the rigid bark. “Well, they’re not very conversational. Living on a farm, your time with friends is limited as it is; I wouldn’t exactly suggest a talent where you take a special interest in these things.”

“Oh,” she looks to the floor. “Is that why they call you Green Oak, then?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Is that even your real name?”

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be? Now come on, I’m supposed to teach you something. Or something? I don’t know, do you?”

“No, not really.”

“Great! Let’s begin. Firstly, this is a tree.” I paw the bark.

“Ah know what a tree is. Ah live in an’ orchard.”

“I know, I know… I’m just trying to copy Applejack. Hopefully you’ll do better than I did, though.”

“Wait, what did you do?”

“I… missed my first attempt.”

A short snort erupts from her muzzle. “Really!?”

“Quiet, you. Just buck the tree.”

“Unlike you?” Her smile could test the patience of Celestia.

“Shut it.”

She smirks, standing to her hooves and approaching the tree. Readying her stance, she throws her back hooves into the tree. A perfectly placed apple fell from its branch, and right onto her head.

“Well… you hit it. Didn’t get much of a response, though.”

“At least I hit it!”

“That is true. Hmm. Try hitting here, instead, just above the base where the roots combine to the trunk.”

And nothing. No apples this time. She hit it, square on the bark, but nothing.

“Well then, sorry Apple Bloom. Guess you’re just not old enough to do this. Or, I guess strong enough.”

“I know, just try tellin’ my sister that! She keeps wanting me to buck apples, but every time I have ta get Big Macintosh to help or else I would get nothing done.”

“And then that torch has been passed to me. I think I’m basically just doing your job for you.” I am an integral part to any community, clearly. “I guess that means I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing, and you just go… do whatever it is you do all day.”

“Well, I normally go hang out with Sweetie and Scoots trying to get my cutie mark.”

“Then go do… that.” I wave my hoof away. “I don’t honestly see why you should be subjected to this.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, what would you realistically do here? Watch me? I don’t think either of us want that…”

“Yeah…” she looks off into the distance, contemplating something briefly before turning back. “Thanks, Green!”

And they’re off. Carrying the lead is none other than the yellow lightning bolt, Apple Bloom. Her speed is impeccable, Green. Just look how quickly she can run from responsibilities! Hah! Comedy…

The trees still haven’t moved. They remain towering over the landscape like wooden spires, and it’s my job to bring down the literal fruits of their labor. The sun has since passed the grace of morning, and now shines brightly directly over this landscape. Let the bucking resume!

Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. And so on.

Sun’s almost gone now. The orchard’s hills in the distance block out the sun and bathe the land in a false evening. Can’t complain, though. This is the last tree in the line, and the last thing to do before works lets off. Six lines of trees, in retrospect, isn’t a lot to handle, but being out of practice definitely made the job harder than it had to be. At least the day will end and I can collect the money before night truly comes.

The last of the red rain fills the giant buckets at the base of the tree, and the last of my work is done. Just as Big Mac arrives, too. He nods, and we begin loading the buckets onto the cart he brought. In no time they’re all stacked, and we can return to the farmhouse.

Applejack is waiting there for us. She notices our arrival, then retreats to the inner workings of the house as Big Mac and I unload the apples into the barn to be sorted later. Probably by Granny Smith. Hey, Apple Bloom is back too, slipping in the door as quietly as she can manage. The door closes with a soft click, and friendly mumbling is heard being exchanged from the filly and the orange mare.

Once the buckets are safely resting on the ground, Big Mac leads the way into the farmhouse, releasing a cascade of appley delights to all senses as he does so. Granny Smith is trotting slowly to the table, taking a seat next to an excited Apple Bloom, and soon after Big Mac joins them. Applejack brings out the first course, and soon all are digging into the harvest’s yield.

Apple Bloom helps Granny Smith upstairs, and Big Mac soon follows.

“How’d Apple Bloom do today?” Applejack asks once we were alone.

“Apple Bloom did fine.”

“Did she learn to buck?”

“She already knew how.”

“Oh?” Applejack pauses and looks towards me. “So she helped you with the trees, then?”

“Well…” How to phrase this easily. “She knows how to buck, she’s just too young to. I ended up letting her go off somewhere around midday.”

“Ya let her go?”

Her gaze hardens. “Yeesss?”

“Gosh darnit. How’s that filly suppose ta learn a proper work ethic if she just leaves halfway through the day?”

It’s not a case of work ethic, she’s just incapable of doing the work. “I’m sure she’ll get one once she’s able to do the work asked of her.”

“I know, it’s just…” she sighs and places the dishes on a counter. “I don’t know with her, you know? It seems she’s more interested in her cutie mark than apple bucking.”

She wants to know if apple bucking is really what she’ll be doing with her life. She just wants to explore a little before settling down in the family business. “Well, weren’t you interested in your cutie mark before you knew it was farming?”

Applejack bites her lips, looking at the circle her hoof was drawing on the table. “Yeah, I was…”

“Well, great minds think alike. Before you know it, I bet Apple Bloom will be more than happy to join you with apple bucking.”

“Heh, I hope so, Green,” she stands from the table and begins walking up the stairs, “I hope so… Good night.”

“Good night.”

The last of the lights are shut off, and a thin silvery veil overtakes the farmhouse. At least the couch is close by. All in all, successful day. Learned how to buck properly. Learned how to aim. Learned how to… let a filly run and shirk her responsibilities. Yep, things are coming up Green Oak.