“Brawk! . . .Brawk! . . .Brawk!”

‘What the,’ Mosley’s mind rebelled, ‘My alarm clock shouldn’t go “Brawk”, what’s goin’ on?’

Reluctantly he opened his eyes, and beheld a pair of obsidian beads, preceded by a short tan dagger. As he jerked back, the full features of Alice resolved before him. “Okay, I’m up. Are you planning on doing this every morning?”

The hen just stared at him. Even though she didn’t have any lips, he could have sworn that she was smirking at him. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate, now he had a chicken with a superiority complex for an alarm clock. Just lovely.

He rolled over to discover that, yet again, Valencia was one step ahead of him. Hearing noises from the kitchen, he decided to take a shower to wake up before breakfast. The hot water steamed over his coat, letting the heat sinking luxuriously into his abused muscles. ‘I guess the city did make me soft,’ He acknowledged, ‘If I feel like this after only half a day of weeding, I can only imagine how bad off I will be this time next week. Still, the results will be worth the pain, and I can only get stronger.’ Letting thoughts melt away, he turned and faced away from the showerhead to let the steamy water do its magic on his back.

As he felt something softer than the water on his neck, he opened his eyes to the vision of his wife, as she nuzzled his neck with hers. “Thank you for last night,” Valencia murmured into his wet mane, “Your magic hooves melted away kinks from places I didn’t know I could get knots. That was the best sleep I have had in years.”

“There are two things about farm living,” He admitted, “The first is that after a day in the fields, sleep always comes easy and deep.” He smiled, “The second is that you will never lack an appetite. What are your thoughts for breakfast?”

After they finished drying each other from the shower, Valencia lead him hoof in hoof to the kitchen, reveling the fresh greens she had selected for their morning meal. Again he had to marvel at how much of a difference the freshness made in the taste. He also noticed that they both made twice as much disappear as they normally did for the first meal of the day.

“Our first full day on the farm,” Valencia opened, “With all the vegetation we are uprooting, I was thinking it would be a good idea to start a compost heap.”

He widened his eyes, “That is a really good idea. By the time we have sprouts, the compost will be ready to spread.”

‘But how did you think of it?’ He thought to himself, then aloud, “I think I can knock together a bin from some spare boards in no time, and I am sure Applebloom would be willing to gather some worms to seed it for us as well.” A smile cracked his lips at the thought of the filly going worm hunting.

“Do you think we will be able to finish the weeding today? I must admit that I am a smidgeon eager to get this farm truly started,” There seemed to be an eager light in her eyes that he could not recall seeing before.

He did a bit of fancy mathematics in his head, “Well, yes. I do think that, barring any unseen issues, we should be well able to polish off the weeding before dark. Even with the odd side project thrown in. Tomorrow just might see us start planting.”

Sharing a smile, they cleared the dishes and headed out to start the day’s labor. He decided that it would make more sense to start back on the weeds after he built a bin to put them in. Unfortunately, this meant he would have to make another trek back to the barn at Sweet Apple Acres proper to get more lumber.

So, after eyeballing the weeds they had pulled so far in order to get a good guess at the size of the box he would need to build, he hitched himself, yet again, to the cart and headed down the path.

Applejack met him just as he was nearing the barn, “Hey there Uncle Orange, whotcha need?”

“Well Valencia had the smart Idea that we should compost all the weeds we are pulling, so I was hoping that there was some spare lumber lying around that I could use to build a box for it all,” He supplied, “How about it?”

Appplejack gave him a wide grin, “Lumber fit for a compost bin, huh? That I can help you with.” With that, she led him behind the barn where there was a huge pile of boards.

“My word! What did all these come from?” They had obviously been used before.

Applejack gave a shucks look at him, “Well, this is some of our last two barns. We seem to have a bit of bad luck when it comes to keepin’ them in one piece. We reused what we could, but this here’s the leftovers. Actually, I am glad you stopped by, Big Mac asked me to do something earlier, but I forgot. Help yourself to whatcha need, I’ll be right back.”

Well, at least he had a wide selection to choose from. He set out pulling boards the right lengths aside. It took him a while to make the selections, and just as he was finishing, Applejack trotted back.

“Sorry it took me so long. Darn papers never seem to be where I left them,” She passed him a pair of short scrolls, “These here are our sharecropper contracts, a copy for each of us. Ifen it wer up to me I wouldn’t ask, but,” She looked abashed, “Even though you are kin, procedure and all . . .”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand, and take no offense,” He looked over the scroll, “25% of any revenue generated from use of the land, for the period of one year . . . Option to renew after this period . . . No products to be produced that directly compete, or undercut the business of Sweet Apple Acres . . . It seems fair enough, I don’t have any problem signing off on this.” And so saying, he took the quill Applejack was holding, and signed both copies under Applejack’s signature, passing one of them back with the quill.

“Again, I’m sorry I had ta ask,” She tried to assure him, “It really has nothing to do with what happened back . . .”

Mosley interrupted her, “I know Applejack. Paperwork is a part of running a business, and I understand that Sweet Apple Acres is a business. We both appreciate you allowing us to lease this plot from you, and we know you don’t hold my mistakes against us.” He began to get back into the harness, “I better get back and throw this bin together before your Aunt starts wondering about me. Thank you for the wood, we’ll see you later, okay.”

“Well, we are neighbors, after all. Good luck Uncle.” With that, she went back to the house, and he headed back to their field.

Once he got back, he was able to build the simple open bottomed box fairly quickly. It was no work of art, but it seemed more than adequate for its job. He started it off with the piles of refuse that they had pulled yesterday, and then set off with his hori hori to return to the battle against the invading flora.

Taking his wife’s lead, he set aside the tastier of the wild plants to re-sow in a garden area for personal use. Losing himself quickly in the methodic routine of his labor, flowing on automatic. It was not until Alice alit upon his head, interrupting his revere, that he notice that the sun was past the midday mark. Again, his wife had been able to stay more in touch with things, and had already retreated inside the cabin to prepare their lunch.

“Dah’ling, don’t look now, but you have a chicken on your head,” his observant spouse reported. His avant-garde headwear choosing that moment to squawk.

“Indeed? Well it is no wonder my thoughts have been so flighty,” He quipped as he gently set Alice down from her roost. “Thank you for, yet again, making sure that I remembered to eat. It is just, well, I am not sure how to describe it. Somehow I just get into the zone out there. The actions, simple and unrefined as they are, have just come back so naturally to me,” He hung his head, “As odd as it sounds, I think I am actually enjoying myself out there in the dirt.”

His wife came over to him, and lifted his head with her hoof, “You are right, it is odd.”

He just stared at her, until she continued, “That we came from one of the highest canters of culture, spent years refining our skill at the art of hobnobbing . . . We, who have spent more on a single restaurant meal than some Ponies spend on an entire month’s rent, have fallen so far that we find ourselves needing to grub around in the dirt.” He couldn’t help it, his eyes began to glisten as he felt anew the weight of his shame, “And yet,” His ears perked at the lilt in her voice, “I am the happiest I have ever been.” And then she kissed him.

He couldn’t believe it. His haunches fell to the floor as the strength evaporated from his legs. He could see in her eyes the sincerity of her words, and the final vestiges of decorum left him as the tears fell to the freshly cleaned floor beneath him. “How can you be happy?” He asked uncomprehendingly, “I failed you utterly. With a single, stupid, naive move, I destroyed your life.” He couldn’t stop now, the dam had burst, “All the money I lost, and with it the parties, jewels, our Penthouse, our friends; Gone!”

Here she stopped him, moving her hoof from his chin to cover his mouth. “What friends? Do you truly think that real friends would have treated us like those, those, SNOBS?” She spat the word with venom behind it, "Those Ponies only played a game. A game of manipulation, backstabbing, and false faces. A game that, as soon as we chose to start playing, we lost. All we were doing, with the spending, the parties, the social climbing, was keeping our loss slowed down a bit.” Here her voice lifted again, “Yes, it was horrible that we were rooked by those charlatans, but, at the end of the day, I am glad. It took me so long to see the truth of the world in which we were living, that I could no longer see the way back. And you, my sweet, adorable, naive stallion. You were in deeper than I, and I could never find the words to break the spell you were still under.”

He embraced her tightly, “I was blind. I thought that I could succeed, even win at that game, and that in doing so I could bring you happiness,” He winced, “And yes. I did think that they were my friends. I thought that the way they treated us was because I had hurt them, but you are right. True friends don’t punish each other. They help each other through the hard times, as have helped me.” He released her so he could see her face, “Do you really mean it, though” Are you genuinely happy here?”

Smiling, she stared him in the eyes, “I am happy because I am with you. In the city, there was so much that kept us apart. Here, we are working side by side. I would gladly never walk another paved street if it meant we could continue as we have these past few days.”

“Well then, I guess we are farmers,” He laughed, “All those years I spent trying to make it in the big city, and look at me now.” He gestured to his orange coat, now tan from the sweat and dirt of the day, “I guess I really am an Earth Pony at heart, and you are with me despite this.”

“No love, I am with you because of it,” A shadow crossed her face, “You know that I grew up in Society. I wasn’t allowed to dirty my hooves with any kind of physical labor. Even my dolls tea parties had servant dolls to pour. Once I started to hear you talk about your family’s farm, and how you lived growing up, well, my curiosity was peaked. While you were working, or at the Club, I devoured books. Anything I could lay my hooves on, as long as it was connected to farm life.” She looked a bit sheepish, “I must admit, I was a bit of a hassle for the kitchen help. They put up with quite a bit, what with all my incessant questioning. They are to whom much credit is due for my cooking skills, such as they are. Perhaps it is a case of the grass seeming greener where you think you will never be able to graze, but I can only say that I feel contentment here with you.”

Mosley was dumbstruck. He had never suspected the hidden dreams his wife had cultivated all these years. How would he have responded if she had revealed her desires before the fall of last week? Probably with complete incredulity, and of course, that is why she had kept them to herself. So, lacking the words, he just smiled, kissed his surprising bride, and went to set the table for their lunch.

The meal passed without further conversation, and none was needed. The words shared earlier seemed to open a deep connection between them. Everything just seemed to start to click between them as they returned to work the field following lunch. It was hard work, with their physiques unused to the labor, yet neither one of them could stop smiling. Such was their enthusiasm, that the entire plot of land had been cleared with several hours of daylight left to spare.

As they reached the final far corner of the field, in unison pulling their final respective weeds to add to the already high piled cart, they turned and looked out over the results of their labor. Taking it in from this angle made it seem like the land was broader than it had looked from the cabin. As they gazed silently, his chest began to get tight with pride from seeing the result of their hard work.

Suddenly, Mosley started laughing. Not the soft chuckle he had worked at cultivating for the Manehatten social scene. This was no polite cocktail party laugh. Nor was it a closed mouth, diaphragm induced “Heh Heh Heh”, such as was used at the Club when off color jokes were told by the Respected. No, this was a belly laugh. Deep and rumbling out of his bones. The kind of laugh he had never released since becoming an adult. A laugh full of joy.

Valencia, smiling, stared at him, “What makes you laugh so? Don’t get me wrong, it gladdens my heart to hear it, but why?”

He looked to her, his eyes wet with mirth, “Here we are, covered in dirt, looking out over a bare, empty plot of land,” He held a hoof to his aching sides, “And I have never been more proud!” He looked at her while gesturing out over the bare field before them, “Don’t you get it? This is the most satisfaction I have had from any accomplishment in years, and it is the making of this: Nothing!”

He kissed her, laughing again, “And I couldn’t have made nothing without you! Thank you, MY Precious Valencia, for standing with me through all of this. For being willing, for wanting to get your hooves dirty. But most of all, thank you for being you. It was your strength that made me want to be stronger.”

Smiling, Valencia gave him a deep embrace, neither of them caring about how dirty they both were, “Come on, you silly colt you, let us retire to our cottage. We need to plan out the next big nothing for us to accomplish!” She looked at their soiled coats a moment, “Besides, although I don’t mind getting my hooves dirty, it doesn’t mean I wish to stay dirty. She winked at him and began trotting, saying suggestively over her shoulder, “You groom my coat, I’ll groom yours.”

What could he do? This was an offer he couldn’t refuse, and so he followed his mare into their cabin, like the love-struck fool he was.

Author's Note

Ah, next chapter things will be getting; {Puts on Sunglasses} Steamy.