Afternoon SunsetView OnlineApple Family TraditionsAfternoon SunsetIt was a hot midsummer afternoon, the air thick and humid, and there was no sound to disturb the peace of the Apple Family farmhouse except the buzzing of insects, the soft creak of a rocking chair, and the rasp of Granny Smith's snoring, until the sound of soft hoofsteps on the wooden porch steps stirred Granny out of her nap. “Huh? Hoozat?” She mumbled, trying to make her bleary eyes focus on the approaching figure. From its height, she thought at first that it was her grandson, home early from the market, but Big McIntosh was much more heavily built than this tall, slender figure. He also didn't have a horn. That was a bit of a giveaway. “Good day to you, Granny Smith,” Celestia said, with a polite inclination of her head. “Princess? Well bless mah soul, this sure is a surprise! I figure you must be here lookin' for lil' Jackie and her friends? She's-” “Actually, I came here to see you, Granny. If I'm not imposing, of course,” the Princess said. “Shucks, Princess, you've always done right by us Apples. You're always welcome here!” The old mare tried to lift herself out of her rocking chair, but the Princess held out a hoof to stop her, and Granny let herself drop back down with a grateful wheeze. “Please, don't disturb yourself on my account. I'm afraid I can't be here for long, and I certainly wouldn't want you to put yourself to any trouble.” “Takin' care of a guest ain't no kind of trouble,” Granny insisted, “but thank you anyway. I'm a little under the weather today, so I ain't been movin' about too much.” “You feel unwell?” Celestia asked, settling herself down on the floor beside Granny's chair. “Aw, 'tain't nothin', Granny said, rubbing her left foreleg. “Aches an' pains, an' it's not like I'm ever short of them these days. It'll pass.” “No,” Princess Celestia said quietly. “I'm afraid it won't.” Granny Smith's old bones may have failed her from time to time, but her mind hadn't left her by any means, and she shot a keen look at the Princess. “Today then?” She said. “Huh.” She sat lost in thought for a few minutes while the Princess sat patiently beside her. “Well, I guess it's been a long time coming, right? Can't say I didn't have a fair shake of it.” “I'm sorry, Granny,” Celestia said, coving the old mare's hoof with her own. “Tch, nothin' to be sorry about," Granny said. "It happens, an' it was always gonna happen. The sun's shinin' (thank you fer that) and mah chair's pretty comfy. Coulda come at a worse time, I reckon. How long've I got?” “Hmm, not very, I'm afraid. A few more minutes perhaps. I wish I could've given you more warning, but I only found out myself a little while ago.” “Found out? Ah was wonderin' about that. Ah didn't know you came around for this kinda thing. This somethin' you do fer everypony?” Granny asked. “Actually, no,” Celestia said. “The end of things is not in my dominion. But I have a... a friend who deals in such matters, and sometimes, as a courtesy, she will give me notice when someone of significance approaches their time.” “Significance? Hay, reckon you might've gotten the wrong pony then.” Granny grinned at the Princess. “That'd be pretty funny, right? If some old thing a couple of towns over keels over while we're here chattin', and I go right on kickin' for another twenty years?” Celestia chuckled. “Well, not funny for the other old thing, I suppose,” she said. “But you're quite wrong, you know. About your significance.” “Don't see how,” Granny sniffed. “AJ's the one who done saved the world all them times, not me.” “And how did Applejack become the mare she is, hmm?” Celestia smiled. “One thing you learn when you live long enough is how to follow events back to their first causes. You founded Ponyville, Granny Smith. You learned the secrets of the zap apples, and because of your success ponies came from across Equestria to make this wonderful little town. And what kind of ponies were drawn here? “I believe that like calls to like, that good neighbours breed good neighbours. What might Ponyville have become without your example? Without the warmth and open-heartedness of the Apple family as a guiding beacon to all those who settled here? Would it have become what it is? A place where a lonely young student could arrive and find, in the space of a single day, five courageous mares who would, for the sake of her friendship, follow her into the jaws of Tartarus? I rather doubt it. No, you mattered a great deal, Granny Smith, perhaps more than you will ever know.” Granny blinked at the Princess. Her breathing, rarely easy these days, was becoming increasingly laboured. Her vision wavered and she struggled to focus. “The young'uns...” she whispered. “I could give them a message, if you would like,” Celestia told her gently. Granny took a deep, shuddering breath and steadied herself. “No,” she whispered. “I been tellin' them foals I love 'em one way or another every day since they were born. If they ain't figured it out by now they're dumber'n I think they are. Just.... are they gonna be okay?” The Princess leaned closer to her. “I don't know the future, I'm afraid, but you have given the world three remarkable young ponies. I believe they will be much, much better than okay.” Celestia looked over Granny's shoulder at something behind her, and Granny struggled to turn her head. Her vision was fading by the second, but she thought she saw a tall, bone-white mare with a black mane, and her cutie mark was one of those funny cross thingies, an ankh was it? Granny wasn't sure, she tried to think, to... “Take good care of this one, old friend,” Celestia said, “she's earned it.” The old rocking chair creaked once and went still, and there was no other sound to disturb the peace except the buzzing of insects.
Necessary ChoresView OnlineApple Family TraditionsNecessary ChoresIt'd been another good day at Sweet Apple Acres. Now, I may be biased, 'cause I think most of 'em are good days, but it'd been nice and sunny, the hit of my hooves against the trees had been as satisfying as ever, and every apple I'd sampled ('cause you've gotta check, right?) had been just about the juiciest, most delicious thing I'd ever tasted. Again, I may be a mite bit biased here, but that's how it seemed to me. Anyway, I'd had a mighty good day's bucking but it was getting time for me to clean up and start taking care of chores back at the house, so I headed on home, Winona dancing and barking at my heels. When I got back to the house I saw Granny sitting in her favourite napping chair on the porch, and I waved to her. She didn't wave back, so I figured she'd gone and overslept again, and hay, who can say she ain't earned the right to nap as much as she likes, right? So I just chuckled and trotted on down to wake her up. “Hey there, Granny!” I called as I got close up, but she didn't stir, and I slowed down, stopping when I got to the steps, 'cause I just knew. I guess that it ain't ever gonna be a surprise when a mare as old as Granny passes. You get used to carrying the expecting of it in the back of your mind, you know? Hay, it'd gotten to be something we'd joke about from time to time, Granny telling us that if we ever acted up when she was gone she'd reach up out of the ground to clip our ears for us And you know what? Even now I wouldn't be the least surprised if she did. I pulled off my hat and held it against my chest, bowing my head. You've gotta show the proper respect. That's important. “Oh, Granny,” I said. “Oh Granny Smith.” I took a deep breath and put my hat back on. I reckoned I'd sit down and have a good cry later, but never let it be said that any Apple ever shirked when there was work that needed doing. Beside me, Winona looked up and whined. I ruffled her ears and gave her a kiss on the nose. “You go play, Sugarcube,” I said. “There's stuff I gotta do.” Winona scurried off, and I stepped up onto the porch. There were flies buzzing around and a smell in the air, and when I got up close I could see that Granny had done messed herself. It's just one a them things that happens, and there ain't no shame in it, but of course I wasn't gonna leave her there. Dignity, that's another thing that's due to the dead, maybe more than the living. Gently as I could, I manoeuvred her onto my back and carried her into the house and upstairs, laying her on her bed. I stepped into the bathroom and came back with a bowlful of warm water on my back and a couple a wash-cloths in my mouth, and set to work cleaning her up. I started humming while I worked, and it took me a while to place the tune. Wasn't until I was finishing up and I was dropping the cloths back into the bowl that I remembered that it was an old nursery rhyme Granny used to sing when I was just a little 'un. Can't for the life of me remember what the words are, but I think I'll have to take a while later to look them up. I'd kinda like to know. Granny's mane had started to come loose, so I decided to untie it and give it a good brushing. It was fine and dry, felt kinda brittle too, and it was a heck of a lot longer than it looked when it was all up in a bun so it took a while, but it looked kinda nice hanging all loose like, so I figured I'd untie and brush her tail as well. Granny had always said that she kept her hair tied up so it wouldn't get in the way when she was working. Well, I thought, I reckon you don't gotta worry about working anymore, Granny. She looked strange like that, all pale with her hair down around her like a white cape, or something like that. She seemed smaller, and more frail then she ever had before, even on the days when she wasn't feeling good and we'd all walk around on the tips of our hooves so as not to disturb her. But she looked peaceful too, you know? Real peaceful. I gave her a kiss on the lips. “Thanks for everything, Granny,” I said. I headed downstairs and wiped down her rocking chair, then cleaned out the bowl and threw the wash-cloths in the trash. I poured myself a cup of cider and sat down at the kitchen table, looking up at the clock. Pretty soon I was gonna have to head on into town and tell Big Mac what'd happened, and then the two of us would have to decide how to break the news to Apple Bloom when she got home from school. But I had a little while yet. Reckoned I had time for that cry now.
Apple Family TraditionsView OnlineApple Family TraditionsApple Family TraditionsTwilight mused, as she often had before, that there was a very interesting (not to mention lengthy) book to be written about Apple Family traditions. It seemed that there was some kind of small ritual attached to every stage of an Apple's life. Not that they'd call them rituals, of course. As Applejack would say, it was just the way things were done, and she wouldn't be the one to change that. Funerals, of course, were no exception. The family had come together from all over Equestria. Twilight and the others, as 'honourary apples', had been invited to the last Apple Family reunion, and that had been similar in many ways, with old friends and relatives who hadn't seen one another for years glad to take the opportunity on both occasions to catch up with each other, and share the news of what each branch of the family tree had been doing. But in other ways... Take the dancing, for example. At the reunion there had been an impromptu band performing, including Applejack herself with a borrowed banjo, and the Apples had thrown themselves about the dancefloor, whooping and hollering with delight, and even the more formal dances where the couples formed into lines and the steps had been laid down generations before, had had a merrily rough and ready air to them, teetering on the brink of a joyous mess if a pony put a hoof wrong. It was different today. The movements were slower – not mournful, exactly, it wasn't that kind of slowness – but careful, each step carefully placed, and the overall effect was.. it was... not graceful, precisely, that wasn't quite the right word, and Twilight prided herself on finding the right words. As she watched, Rarity, in a black dress and veil, and Hayseed Turnip-Truck came together and linked forelegs, circling once and then, with a small smile and a nod for each other, separating, each moving smoothly to the next partner. Dignified. That was the word. The dancing was dignified, but with a simplicity and a total lack of pretension that would have been completely alien to the Canterlot snobs that prided themselves on their own dignity. Of course, Twilight realised, it wasn't their own dignity that the dancers were concerned about. “Respect,” Applejack had said earlier, when they'd still been planning for the funeral, “it's all about showing respect to the... the dead. It ain't about grieving. That's something we do on our own, in private, or with them that's closest to us. Grief's personal. Selfish even. At the end of the day it's about our own loss. This is about Granny.” True to her word, no tears had escaped Applejack during the ceremony, and even now she was smiling as she moved through the throng, stopping here and there to share a word or a hug with an aunt or cousin, making sure everypony's drink was full or that they had something to eat. Last night she'd buried her face in Twilight's shoulder and bawled her heart out like a lost foal, but like she'd said, that was private. A bonfire had been lit near to the barn, and ponies sat around it passing stoneware jugs back and forth and telling stories about the Apple Family Matriarch, some old, some newer, and mostly small, everyday things, like the time Granny had caught the teller stealing pie and spanked his behind, but then given him a big slice all to himself when she'd decided he was sorry enough. At the end of each story everypony would cheer and toast with their jugs, before starting the next one. Twilight stepped away from the fire and headed into the orchards. The oldest fields were naturally the closest to the house so she didn't have to go far. In the very oldest field, where the Apple Family had planted their first trees, was the mound of fresh soil where, earlier that day, she and the others had watched Big Mac carefully plant a tiny seedling, patting down the soil around it while the Apples all murmured in unison. Twilight had had to lean close to Applejack to hear. “To earth we go, from earth we come again.” “'T'ain't no mystery to it.” Applejack had explained as they walked back to the farmhouse to set out the food and drink for the evening. “The trees and the fruit keep us as we keep them. We care for our crops, and they help make us strong and healthy, so when we die with go back to the earth, and through the trees that strength gets passed on to the next generations.” She looked back at the tiny plant atop the mound of earth. “I reckon if that li'l thing gets even a bit of Granny's strength, it's gonna shoot up bigger'n Canterlot Mountain.” Now, in the dark, barely able to see the newly planted tree, Twilight realised that she didn't really have anything to say. So she bowed her head, and hoped that somehow her feelings would be understood by someone who mattered. She wasn't surprised when Applejack stood next to her, and bumped a shoulder against hers. “You okay, Sugarcube? Enjoying the evening?” “You know, I am actually,” Twilight said. “It's been good, I think.” “Well, I'd hope so,” Applejack said, smiling at her. “Wouldn't be right to send her off with a lousy evening, right? Wouldn't be respectful.” “No, I suppose not,” Twilight said. “Should we go back?” “If you want to,” Applejack said. She nodded to the mound. No, Twilight thought, to the tree. “I'll be back to see you tomorrow,” she said. As they headed back to the house, Applejack paused and tipped her hat to a pair of trees close to the fence. “Ma and Pa,” she explained as they walked by. The ponies by the fire had started to sing about being 'Apples together', and Twilight thought she could hear Apple Bloom's high, clear voice weaving amongst them. Nearby, the musicians and dancers were starting to pick up the pace. “Hey, Twilight?” Applejack said. “She was a heck of a mare, wasn't she?” “She really was,” Twilight said, nuzzling the other mare's cheek. “She really, really was.” “Come on,” Applejack smiled and started trotting towards the bonfire, “I feel like singing.”