An Apple Family Hearth's Warming

Chapters

Preparations
Food, Drink, and Knives
Out Into the Cold
Miraculous Visitors

Preparations

“There ain’t no spies in my coven!”

Applejack sighed and set down the latest in the interminable succession of sheets she’d been folding. She trotted down the hall and into the kitchen.

“No granny, I asked if the pies are in the oven,” she said patiently.

“I know that,” Granny Smith snapped. “I just couldn’t imagine that my dutiful granddaughter would be rude enough to ask me the same question six times in a row. So I thought my old ears must be giving out on me.” She sniffed the air. “’sides, if you can’t smell those pies then it’s your nose that’s the problem.”

The kitchen was redolent with the comfortingly festive smell of baking pies. Mainly apple, of course, but there were a smattering of blueberry, strawberry rhubarb, and boysenberry. Applejack had even insisted on a pear pie this year. After what she’d learned about her mother’s family of origin it only seemed right to include it. Though, Applejack half suspected that Granny Smith had only included it as a trap for anypony foolish enough to pick pear pie over apple.

“You’re right, Granny,” Applejack said. “I know you’ve got the dinner well in hoof. Sorry for pestering you.” She looked around quickly and then her eyes lit up. “I’ll go check on Mac, see if he’s brought the cider barrels up from the cellar.

Granny Smith peered at her. “Land sakes girl, you’re twitchier than that princessy friend of yours on re-shelving day. What’s put a bee in your bonnet?”

“Nothin’,” Applejack said, her eyes darting back and forth.

“Don’t you give me that ‘nothin’ nonsense,” Granny Smith tutted. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on with you.”

Applejack sighed. “Making sure tonight goes well is really important to me. We haven’t hosted the Apple Family Hearthswarming celebration at Sweet Apple Acres since,” Applejack paused and reached up to touch her Stetson, “well, not for a long time. I just want to do right by everypony.”

“Oh Applejack, you’re worrying too much.” Granny Smith swept her up in a tight hug. “With all the hard work you’ve put in I’m sure everything will be just perfect.”

“Yeah!” shouted Apple Bloom as she entered the kitchen. “And just in case we need some extra hooves I asked Sweetie Bell to come help with the cooking and Scootaloo to help foalproof the house for the littleuns.”

“No!” Applejack cried in horror, only to find Apple Bloom laughing at her.

“Only joking sis,” Apple Bloom chuckled. “I love my friends dearly but I’m pretty sure you’d rather avoid the whole party getting covered in tree sap. Besides, Hearth’s Warming is a day for family.”

“Too right it is,” Granny Smith crowed. “Now you two go on and git. I’ve got a bunch more dishes to whip up before this shindig really gets started.”

The two sisters trotted on out into the hallway. “Now Apple Bloom, I’ve laid all the linens and the pillows out in my room. Why don’t you take them out to the barn?” Applejack said. “I’ll go split a few more logs for firewood. Got to make sure we have enough.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Sure thing sis. And stop worrying so much. You’re definitely on top of this.”

“Thanks.” Applejack smiled. “But don’t think that gets you out of helping. You’ll be working just as hard as I am for the rest of the evening.”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes good naturedly. “We’ve both been working hard for the past week. A few more hours won’t kill me.”

“That’s the true spirit of Hearths Warming,” Applejack encouraged. It was true, they had been working hard for quite a while. Getting the small farm ready for the horde of Apples descending that afternoon had been no small feat. Still, Applejack thought they were close to being ready. Maybe once the guests started arriving she’d be able to relax and get into a more festive mood.

Applejack’s hoofsteps carried her easily out of her old wooden house and down the dusty track to the old shack where they stored the fallen timber. Once upon a time, chopping wood had been nigh on the worst chore on the farm. Lifting the heavy splitting maul with her mouth always risked getting splinters in awkward spots and the weight of the tool quickly put a painful crick in her neck.

Fortunately, some time back Twilight had wandered by the farm when Applejack was splitting wood. Upon seeing how unpleasant it was she insisted on designing something better. Sure enough, a few days later she’d returned with a fascinating contraption.

It was a long wooden tube with guides for the logs to be split. A spring loaded blade was at one end. All Applejack had to do was to give the wide circular cover on the back of the blade a good buck and it would shoot forward, splitting the wood, before the springs on the sides brought it back to the starting position.

Though the device made the task easier, it was still hard work and the sun was high in the sky by the time Applejack had a good pile of wood ready for the fire. She piled the split logs on a cart and pulled it toward the barn.

The barn itself had seen the most work in the past week. It had originally been a normal farm barn with hay bales and planting equipment. Since there wasn’t enough room for the whole family in the house, Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Big Mac, had had to convert the barn into accommodations for the family.

Looking around, Applejack felt they’d done a pretty good job. The hay had all been removed. The floor was swept and polished to a nice shine. Holes in the barn so old that they’d each been named had finally been filled. It was noticeably warmer inside thanks in no small part to the large iron potbellied stove they’d installed in one corner to keep their relatives warm through the cold winter nights.

Applejack dragged the wood she’d cut to that same stove. There was already a small pile of wood next to it but with her contribution there was absolutely no chance they’d run out any time soon. Unmindful of a small dot of color buried amid the wood, she turned to check on Apple Bloom.

“How’re those linens comin’, Apple Bloom?”

“Almost done,” Apple Bloom mumbled around a mouthful of sheet. They’d set up cots throughout the barn with dividing screens sectioning off each individual family and Apple Bloom had spent the past while making up all the beds. She tucked in the last corner and gave a satisfied nod. “There. That oughta do it.”

AppleJack trotted over and inspected her work. “Yep, looks like you done a good job. Thanks for all your help this week, sis. It’d’ve been tough gettin’ it all done if you’d been as wild as you used to be.”

“Of course I helped. I’m a big pony now and I’ve got the cutie mark to prove it,” Apple Bloom said proudly.

“You sure are,” Applejack chuckled and tousled her little sister’s mane. “Now come on. We’ve got to get washed up and the family’s due any minute now.”

There wasn’t time for each of them to take a full shower. Instead, Applejack led Apple Bloom around the back of the barn. She told Apple Bloom exactly where to stand and then trotted around the corner to the hose faucet. Applejack placed her hat next to the faucet and with the squeak of rusty metal she turned the wheel and started counting backwards from five.

At zero, a sudden yelp came from Apple Bloom. “Ack, what in tarnation? Applejack!”

Applejack stoically repressed a smile and trotted back around the barn to hose down her sister with the cold water. She held the hose firmly in place and refused to let Apple Bloom avoid the chilling flow. “Sorry sis. We gotta get clean. ‘Sides the bitter cold is bracing, ain’t it?”

Apple Bloom glared balefully at Applejack. “We’ll just see how you like it when it’s your turn.”

“I reckon you’re just about done,” Applejack said, giving her sister a once over. She put down the still gushing hose and trotted over to stand where Apple Bloom had stood. “Alright. It’s my turn now. Try and remember the goal is getting clean, not getting revenge.”

“Oh, I will,” said Apple Bloom, her peaceful words belied by the menace in her tone. As anypony with a sibling might have expected, Applejack was well and truly soaked in a matter of seconds. She yelped and ducked away from the spray, letting Apple Bloom chase her a bit.

“That’s enough, Bloom. Turn the hose off now.” Apple Bloom held the hose on her sister for another few moments, proving once and for all that revenge is indeed a dish best served as cold as an outdoor shower in winter. Finally satisfied, she trotted round the barn and turned the hose back off.

Applejack chuckled to herself and shook the water out of her mane. She hoped that the chance to play around a bit would help Apple Bloom relax. Preparations for this evening had been driving them all up the wall lately and, as the youngest, Apple Bloom had felt pressured to help without fully being able to do so. A few moments with a hose couldn’t make up for that but maybe it would bleed off some of the tension before the guests started arriving.

Speaking of which, they really did need to get a move on. Apple Bloom returned with her hat and the two of them toweled off with a few of the towels left by the hose for just such a purpose. Then, shivering in the cold winter air, they hurried up to the main house and made their way inside.

They had decorated earlier in the week, but Applejack was relieved to see that the decorations were still in place. Festive streamers of red and green ran across the ceiling and from room to room. Tinsel and holly lent dashes of silver and red to the walls. Snow globes, nutcrackers, candles, and other festive tchotchkes decorated darn near all the free table space. Even the air smelled of spruce.

And apples of course. Hearth’s Warming or not it was still an Apple family home.

Big Mac had brought three huge casks of cider that were set up on a lace-covered table along one wall. Other drinks ranging from orange juice – the Oranges were coming up from Manehattan – to dandelion wine, to eggnog were scattered among red cups on the rest of the table. Applejack knew that a smaller cask of zap apple cider had been brought up from the cellar as well, though that would only come out once the littluns had gone to bed.

And the food! Granny had outdone herself already and only the appetizers had yet been laid out. Apples and honey for a sweet new year. Crackers and cheeses and pears – Grand Pear had been invited as well – sure to delight young and old alike. Salad bowls of watercress and fennel, radishes and carrots. It was a scrumptious repast and Applejack could still smell the main dishes cooking in the oven.

“Y’all have done a great job!” Applejack said enthusiastically. “I reckon we couldn’t be any more prepared.”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac agreed, nudging the last barrel of cider into the perfect spot.

“And a good thing too,” Granny Smith put in. “It’s just about time.”

A ring from the doorbell confirmed her words. Applejack took a deep breath, put on a smile, and went to greet her kin as host of the official Apple Family Hearth’s Warming Celebration.

Food, Drink, and Knives

Family trickled into the festive Apple home over the next few hours. Applejack was kept busy channeling Rarity’s demeanor for all she was worth, all while greeting the guests, insuring the steady flow of food and drink, and soothing ruffled fur when it arose.

For all the effort it took, it did her good to see her old home so full of the happy ruckus of a family celebration. Somepony, possibly Big Mac, had found an old phonograph. The records that spun on it were so familiar that Applejack could anticipate every crackle and hum of the rich tones that boomed forth from that golden speaker. Her hooves moved to the rhythms of familiar Hearth’s Warming carols like “Filly it’s Cold Outside,” “Silent Neigh,” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Pegasus.”

Applejack danced the dance of a host as she wound her way through the crowd.

“Pardon me, Apple Fritter.”

“No problem. Great party Applejack!”

“Thanks! And how are you Braeburn? Great to see you down from Appleloosa.”

“Yee Haw! Cousin, you sure throw a wild shindig!”

“I sure do,” Applejack agreed. She spoke in an undertone to Big Mac as they passed one another. “You mind watering Braeburn’s cider down a bit? Don’t want him getting too wild.”

“Eeyup,” said Big Mac, before his own tasks swept him off into the crowd.

Applejack continued threading her way through the crowd, heading for the kitchen. “Yes I am getting more snacks, Gala Appleby. Restroom’s third door on the right down that hallway, Jonagold. And how are you enjoying the party, Great Aunt Crab Apple?”

Great Aunt Crab Apple was a wizened old pony with a pale yellow coat and a mane that had once been bright red but was now faded almost to grey. She perpetually wore a sour expression, as if she had bitten into a juicy apple and found a lemon instead.

In answer to Applejack’s question she sniffed and turned her head aside. “Well, I suppose you did your best, but it’s not nearly as nice as the celebration your parents threw.”

Applejack didn’t stop moving and tried to ignore the barb. “That’s mighty cruel of you to say, but I appreciate your honesty.” She slipped through the kitchen doors and let out a sigh of relief as the noise of the party was cut off.

“That old Crab Apple say something nasty to you?” Granny Smith asked distractedly as she managed three dishes at once.

“It was nothing,” Applejack insisted. She walked over to another side of the kitchen where the dishes she was responsible for were in various stages of preparation. Casting a careful eye over the mess she pulled a knife out of a drawer and started chopping up celery and carrots for one of the salads.

“Sure, nothing,” Granny Smith grumbled. “That old nag might be my sister, but she’s got a mean streak wider than a field feels on plowing day. Don’t pay her any mind, if you can.”

“Will do Granny.” The two mares fell into a companionable silence as they put the finishing touches on the official Apple family Hearth’s Warming dinner. Applejack darted back into the melee once or twice to deliver refills on the snacks or to check up on things. Still, it wasn’t too long before the last timer dinged and they were ready to start serving the evening meal.

“Soups on everypony!” Applejack shouted out into the chaos of the party. Few of the guests could hear her over all the noise so instead she went to the cupboard and brought out the traditional triangle used to call ponies working in the field in to eat. “Plug your ears Granny, this is going to be loud.”

Granny Smith nodded and sat back, covering her ears with her forelegs. Applejack took the small metal rod and swirled it in the center of the triangle, banging it hard against the sides. The discordant jangling easily cut through the party and everypony fell silent and turned toward where Applejack stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Dinner is ready y’all. Big Mac, Red Gala, Caramel Apple, you mind setting up the tables so we can all get to this grub?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac said. He and his cousins shooed guests away from the center of the room and pulled the wooden tables from where they’d been stacked and folded against the wall. It was traditional for Apple family dinners to have three tables: two rectangular tables for the littluns and the honored elders, and one large square table in the center for everypony else.

While Big Mac got the tables set up, everypony else pitched in by bringing over the chairs and table cloths from where they’d been queued up along the sides of the room. Meanwhile, Applejack closed the half-door between the kitchen and the living room turned dining room. She started moving the dishes up to the wide shelf on the half-door. Apple Bloom grabbed the cutlery and placed it near the food.

The Apple family had long since learned that trying to serve each individual member meant that the food would go cold long before the final pony was served. The had further learned that serving the elders first, as might have been polite, led to the hungry littluns kicking up quite a fuss. Therefore, the Apple family method of food distribution was close to an assembly line with the littluns first, the elders next, and the adults last.

So, even as Big Mac finalized the dining room by placing a massive wooden Lazy-Susan on the center of the square table, the littluns were lined up by the food drooling in anticipation of the feast Granny Smith and Applejack had concocted.

As the oldest littlun and a host besides, Apple Bloom took charge of the first stage. “Come on you lot,” she said, directing the fillies and colts to pick up plates and serve themselves. “Make sure you get some green beans, now. You need some vegetables on that plate. And you, leave some sweet potatoes and marshmallow for the rest of us. Let’s go, chop chop. I’m sure you moms and dads are hungry too.”

Applejack spared a proud smile for the skill with which Apple Bloom was managing the littluns. In short order they’d been settled at their table and the elders took their turn filling up their plates. Granny Smith went out the kitchen the back way so she could direct, while Applejack kept rotating dishes out as they emptied.

In many ways the Apple family elders were even fussier than the littluns. Granny Smith had her hooves full dealing with all the ornery old ponies, though she could be ornery right back with the best of them.

“No, Goldie dear, there is no wheat in that there mushroom and onion stew,” she reassured one worried family member.

“That’s good. You know it does a murder on my bowels. Why if there was any in there I’d be up all night tootin’ away!”

Granny Smith nodded patiently. “I know, and that’s why there ain’t none. Now ladle yourself some stew and move along please.” She turned to answer another questions from the next family member. “No, Carnivorous Apple, I’m the head cook and I’m pretty durn sure every dish is vegetarian. I wouldn’t know how to cook a dish that wasn’t anyhow.”

The other pony frowned but, placated by Granny Smith’s offer to learn such a dish the next time the family gathering was at her house, finally did move along.

When Crab Apple reached the front of the line she surveyed the offerings with disdain and sniffed. “You’re losing you touch if this is the best you could serve to your family on Hearth’s Warming. Still I suppose it will do. By the by, where is that delicious pear and blue cheese salad you served last time we celebrated Hearth’s Warming here?” she asked, far too innocently for a genuine inquiry.

Inside the kitchen Applejack had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping back that she wouldn’t have served that dish to
the mean old mare even if they’d had it. Fortunately, Granny Smith had a better rein on her temper.

“I’m so glad the dinner my granddaughter and I spent all day slaving over is good enough for the likes of you,” she said, amazingly managing to sound completely sincere. “That pear salad was a specialty of my daughter-in-law and, as anypony can plainly see, she ain’t here.”

“That’s right,” said Crab Apple. “You let a Pear marry into this family. I suppose that’s why this Hearth’s Warming celebration is so lacking, because the hosts are barely even Apples.”

That was the last straw. Applejack unlatched the kitchen half-door and marched out, planning to give Crab Apple a piece of her mind. Getting around the door delayed her for a few seconds so Apple Bloom got there first.

“How dare you talk about my momma like that, you nasty old biddy,” she shouted up into Crab Apple’s face. “She was twice the mare you ever were and if she were here right now she’d throw you out on your end for talking to family that way.”

“Apple Bloom! How dare you talk to your elders like that,” Granny Smith said sharply. “Apologize to Elder Crab Apple this instant.”

Hearing Apple Bloom giving Crab Apple a piece of her mind did Applejack a world of good. Having somepony speak out was enough of a release that she was able to play peacemaker as a good host should.

“Y’all are causing a scene. And we’ve got hungry ponies waiting for their meal,” she said, gesturing to all the adult ponies that hadn’t yet gotten food. “Now Apple Bloom, do you think you could honestly apologize to Crab Apple right now?”

“No,” said Apple Bloom sullenly, looking at the floor.

“Well, I won’t stand for any lying in this family, so you just run off back to the littluns' table now. I think I see Peachy Sweet getting ready to throw her mashed potatoes at Lavender Fritter so you’d better hurry.” Apple Bloom looked up in surprise and Applejack winked at her, tilting her head so Crab Apple couldn’t see.

“Sure thing, sis,” Apple Bloom said, darting off back to her seat and moving rapidly to stop an incipient food fight.

“And as for you,” Applejack said, turning back to Crab Apple. “You appear to have all the food you care for of what we cooked, so if you could take your seat I’d appreciate it.”

Crab Apple scanned the room, but found no supporters among the hungry ponies in line. She sniffed once more before snatching up her plate and retreating to the far corner of the elder’s table.

“Well done, Applejack,” Granny Smith said. “I snapped at Apple Bloom by reflex. Guess I’ll owe her an apology tonight.”

Applejack felt a warm glow of pride at Granny Smith’s praise. She had deescalated the situation and saved the peace of the evening, and that was indeed something to be proud of. She smiled at Granny Smith and returned to her post in the kitchen as the line resumed its slow march toward food.

Thankfully, the adult ponies proved less troublesome than the elders or the littluns and in short order everypony save Applejack had loaded their plate and was seated around one of the three tables. While the politer family members like the Oranges from Manehattan had refrained from eating until all were served, most ponies had already started tucking in.

The clink of silverware and the low hum of dining conversation filled the room as Applejack scrapped the bottom of a glass bowl containing cranberry sauce before trotting over to take her seat at one of the heads of the square table. She savored her first bite, relishing the delicious food after the hard day’s work she’d put in.

Unfortunately, before she could take her second bite a call came from the littluns table for more apple juice. Sighing, Applejack stood up and grabbed the pitcher from their table, smiling at her little cousins as she did so. She returned a moment later with a refilled pitcher and deposited it on their table to a chorus of thank-yous.

Applejack just managed to sneak a second bite in before the elder’s table called her over and asked her to puree the steamed carrots since even steamed the vegetables were still too hard for their old teeth. Applejack collected their carrots in a serving dish and took them back into the kitchen. She dug through the cupboards until finally she found a dusty old hoof-powered blender. After washing it out, she poured the carrots in and laboriously turned the hoof crank until the carrots’ consistency closely resembled that of orange juice.

Scarcely had she brought the carrots back out to the elders and settled back into her seat when she was called upon to run another errand or smooth away another minor irritant. On and on it went throughout dinner. Every bite she took was punctuated with chores for needy family members and she had to do it all with a smile.

It all reminded her of something Granny Smith had once said. ‘A perfect hostess is like a duck: calm and poised on the surface, and paddling like Tartarus underneath.’

All told, Applejack barely made it halfway through her meal before everypony else was scrapping the last few morsels – usually Brussel sprouts, those always were the last to go – off their plates. It didn’t seem right to force everypony to wait on her, no matter how hungry she was, so she cleared her plate along with the rest.

Granny Smith’s legendary pies were brought out in stages. Pear, blueberry, boysenberry, strawberry, strawberry rhubarb, and the king of them all, apple pie all were placed carefully on the huge Lazy-Susan in the middle of the room. Applejack passed around dessert forks and small plates so that everypony was ready for the pies once they’d been cut.

Then, she took up her knife and readied herself to cut the pies. Now an ordinary pony would have had each pie placed in front of them so they could carefully make a few incisions before moving on to the next one. Applejack, however, was far more skilled than any ordinary pony.

“Give me a beat, Apples!” she called out.

Starting slow, the gathered family stomped on the ground in a two-part beat. Applejack nodded along for a moment then smirked at her family. She cast an eye over to the littluns table. “Come on, Apples, you can go faster than that!”

Whooping, the littluns stomped faster and faster, and with good natured grins the adults let themselves be pulled along by the infectious enthusiasm.

“That’s more like it!” Applejack called out. She could almost hear the familiar twang of a good old fashioned country fiddle stringing along to the beat. “Hold it there now.”

The room shook with the rhythm of a galloping pony as Applejack tossed the knife from hoof to hoof, getting in time with the music. “Swing that Susan in a do-si-do.” She worried that that particular instruction was a little too opaque, but if there was one thing her family knew, other than apples, it was folk dancing.

Brown Betty Apple and Paula Red stopped stomping and reached up to the Lazy Susan. They pushed it along counterclockwise, speeding it up in time with the beat. The pies on top of the spinning Lazy Susan moved to the outsides before being stopped by the raised outer edge.

Applejack’s eyes narrowed. She focused as closely as she could on the pies, tracking each and every twitch with laser-like intensity.

“Yee-Haw!” she shouted and out came the knife. Snicker-snack went the blade and the blueberry pie was expertly carved into eighths.

Cheers came from the watching Apples but Applejack wasn’t done. Her blade moved in time with the beat and with snick after snick she expertly carved each pie into perfect slices. At last only one apple pie was left, waiting for the most impressive display of all.

Her free hoof shot out and slapped down on the edge of the pie tin so that it flipped up in the air, rotating slowly. The beat ceased at once as the Apple’s gasped, sure they were about to witness that most heinous of crimes: a wasted apple pie.

Applejack’s hoof shot out again knocking flat against the bottom of the pie tin. The tin had been well greased and Granny Smith was an expert baker so the pie popped right out of the tin and seemed to hang in the air for a single brief second.

In that second Applejack moved faster than the eye could follow. Her knife flashed out and carved the pie not into eighths as with the others, but into ninths. Beyond simply cutting the pie, she gave an extra flick to her hoof with each cut and each piece of pie went sailing away.

There were sobs now from the audience. Foals covered their eyes that they not have to witness something so awful. So great was the despair that the flight of the pie slices themselves was almost unwitnessed. Only the youngest of foals, little Tiddly Pomme, was brave or naïve enough to keep watching.

She giggled and gasped in delight as she saw where the pie slices landed. “Look, look everypony,” she chirped. “Look at what cousin AJ did.” Slowly, the downcast eyes were raised and everypony saw what it was that Applejack had done.

Each slice of pie was resting on a pie plate in front of a pony. Three slices had gone to the littluns table, three to the adults, and three to the honored elders.

As the dumbstruck Apples watched, Tiddly Pomme raised her spoon and took the first bite. “So good!” she declared.

The calm was broken as the Apple’s went wild. Cheers and whoops filled the room as the nearest Apples proudly slapped Applejack’s back. The orange pony stood there, slightly out of breath and grinning from ear to ear.

This was what all her hard work had been for. These moments of rejoicing family left indelible marks on the soul and it was from those marks that Applejack drew strength year-round. A warm feeling of satisfaction filled her in place of the hunger from the dinner that she hadn’t had time to finish. She stayed standing, watching as her family set to the important business of dealing with desert.

Conversation buzzed and she could still hear the foals exclaiming over her performance. Even Crab Apple’s too-loud mutter of “show-off” couldn’t bring her down. As the pie tins were emptied of their contents, Applejack gathered them up and carted them off to the kitchen. With the pie tins added the mound of dishes was looking more like a mountain than a molehill. As that warm feeling of contentment filled her veins with energy, Applejack turned on the water and set to work.

Out Into the Cold

Dessert passed quickly as Applejack scrubbed away at plate after plate. Before too long she heard the rumble of moving wood and realized that Big Mac was packing the tables up and changing the dining room back into a sitting room. It was a quieter part of the evening. Applejack could hear the intermittent laughter of the foals playing Apples to Apples, the low murmur of after-dinner conversation, and the thunk of mugs as the good cider was brought round for all to taste.

This had always been Applejack’s favorite part of the Hearth’s Warming celebration. The early excitement and chatter was fun, to be sure, but that felt like a party. After dinner quiet always felt like family to her and she rushed a bit at the dishes in the hopes of joining the rest all the sooner.

Sunset had ended an hour ago by the time Applejack neared the end of the dishes. Her hooves rather closely resembled raisins by that point, but Applejack felt only joy as she wiped the dish towel across the last of the little blue china dessert plates and carefully stacked it back in the cupboard with its kin. She removed the apron she’d been wearing to protect against splashes and left the kitchen, intent on rejoining her own kin.

Emerging into the dining room, Applejack found the littluns cleaning up their games, supervised by Granny Smith and the other elders. “Time for bed already?” she asked in surprise.

“Sure is,” Granny Smith responded. “They’ve already had an extra half-hour.”

It was a bit of a disappointment. Applejack had hoped that she’d have the chance to get to know her youngest relatives a little better this Hearth’s Warming. Still, as long as she was able to sit back with a drink and take a load off her aching hooves in the company of family she’d be happy.

“Say good night now, littluns” Granny Smith prompted. The squeaky chorus of good-nights brought a smile to every face. The adults and remaining elders waved good-bye as Granny Smith led the littluns off to the barn turned guest rooms to be tucked in for the night. Applejack’s smile grew just a little bit wider when Crab Apple declared that she was done with this substandard celebration and that she was retiring. The barb barely even hurt compared with the pleasure of her absence.

Applejack sighed in relief as she settled into a comfortable rocking chair near to the fire. “Celestia bless you Mac,” she said as her elder brother placed a foaming mug of cider on the table next to her. She drank deep and hummed in satisfaction as the sweet liquid warmed her bones.

A moment passed and Applejack let it. The Ponyville Apples had been preparing for Hearth’s Warming for weeks and engaged in intense setup for the past few days. This felt like the first time in nearly that long that Applejack had been able to sit without feeling like there was something she should be doing.

She gazed into the fire, letting the Twilight-esque focus on lists and preparations that had filled her mind at last fade away. Hearth’s Warming was nearly over and it had been a success. Applejack dared think that maybe even her parents would have been proud of the job they’d done. Now, instead of seeing to everypony else’s enjoyment she could finally take some of her own, and during her favorite part of the holiday no less.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. Mere moments later the door banged open and Crab Apple barged back in. There was a dark scowl on her yellow face and she marched straight over to Applejack. “Thought you’d get back at me eh? Thought you’d freeze me to death out there and never mind the other ponies that suffer too.”

“What’s the trouble, Great Aunt Crab Apple?” Applejack asked, striving to keep her tone neutral.

“What’s the trouble?” Crab Apple screeched, drawing the gaze of the few ponies that had ignored her melodramatic entrance. “The trouble is that there’s no wood out in the barn where your stashing us and it’s freezing out there. That’s the trouble!”

Applejack had had it. She shot to her hooves and glared down at Crab Apple. It was times like these that ponies remembered that Applejack was a large pony. Not as large as Big Mac, to be sure, but she was taller than any of the other mares there. Her legs were strong as the trees she bucked and her barrel was thick with muscle from days of plowing the fields. She was, perhaps, twice the weight of the pony she loomed over and in her anger everypony suddenly remembered that fact.

“You listen here,” she growled. “You came into my house and insulted my celebration, my mother, and my food and I let it pass because I was being hospitable. But I split the wood for the barn myself earlier today, and I stacked it in a pile higher than a pony’s head. So I know you’re lying and,” Applejack’s voice rose into a shout, “I will not stand liars in my home!”

Crab Apple’s hooves gave out beneath her and she collapsed, trembling to the floor. Applejack glared down at the bitter old thing, still riled up at the righteous tongue lashing she’d just delivered.

“Applejack, she was telling the truth.” Applejack slowly turned to see Granny Smith standing in the doorway with the heads of a few littluns peeking out from behind her. “There ain’t no wood by the stove.”

Applejack shook her head. “I don’t understand. I spent all afternoon splitting wood. How can it be gone?”

Granny Smith reached behind her and brought out a colorful round shape with two gossamer wings. Applejack felt her heart drop as she saw the parasprite in Granny Smith’s hoof. There must have been a log from the Everfree Forest among their wood. The parasprite had hitched a ride and devoured all the pieces of wood she'd chopped for the fire the second she'd turned around. Thinking back, she vaguely remembered glimpsing it out of the corner of her eye, but she’d been so ready to be done that she’d ignored it.

Which meant that this was all her fault. Applejack’s eyes slid sideways to where Crab Apple was still sitting on the floor, staring nervously up at her. Awkwardly, Applejack placed a hoof on Crab Apple’s shoulder. The older pony flinched at the touch. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Crab Apple said nothing and the whole family watched as Applejack uncomfortably surveyed the room. “Granny, bring the littluns in and put them down on cushions in the guest room for now. I’ll just go split more wood then.”

Applejack thanked her lucky stars that she was the type to cry on the inside. If she had been otherwise she’d have been tearing up as she left the room, pursued by the judgmental stares of her family. She shuddered as the door closed behind her and the cold winter wind whisked away any warmth she’d brought out with her.

The cruel bite of the wind seemed horribly appropriate for the guilt that wracked Applejack as she trudged to the wood shack, dead grass crackling underhoof. She had been so close. So close to putting on a successful Hearth’s Warming celebration for her family. All she’d have had to do was keep her mouth shut one last time in the face of Crab Apple’s griping.

It wasn’t as though other hosts hadn’t had problems, dry food, not enough room, broken water heaters, that kind of thing. The Apple family was nothing if not forgiving towards those poor souls brave enough to try and host the whole clan. Everypony knew it was a difficult job and they would have understood if a pest had eaten through the wood she’d prepared.

They would be far less forgiving of what she’d said to Crab Apple. Respect was important in the Apple Family and falsely accusing an elder of lying, well that was the kind of disrespect that could be remembered for a long time to come. Apple Bloom had gotten away with her bit of temper because she was young yet and she hadn’t insulted Crab Apple’s honor, neither was the case for Applejack.

She wearily pushed open the door to the wood shed. The hinges creaked loudly and she resolved for the millionth time to oil them, though she knew there’d be other chores that would catch her attention first. She hefted a log of wood and went to slip it into the splitting machine of Twilight’s, only to receive her second unpleasant surprise of the night.

The parasprite must have had more time with the machine than she’d thought, because the wooden sidings and base were eaten clean through. The machine was entirely unusable.

Applejack let the log drop from her grasp and then she sank down to her knees on the sawdust covered floor of the drafty old shack. Hunger gnawed at her belly, her hooves were aching and sore from all the work that she’d put in getting ready for the celebration, and every gust of the wind through the cracks in the shack seemed to carry a little more of her resolve away with it.

“I can’t,” she whispered to herself. “It’s too much.” She’d barely been able to make herself come out here when she’d thought the machine was going to speed her task along. Now, the thought of each and every log she had to split hung around her neck like the weight of the maul she’d have to use.

“Come on old girl,” she argued with herself. “Can’t have you sittin’ here feeling sorry for yourself. Not when there’s work to be done. Come on now, up you get.” The words fell flat in the dead air of the shack and Applejack remained on her knees.

She tried again. “Sooner this is started the sooner I can get back where its warm and have another mug of cider. That don’t sound too bad now does it?” Still her knees remained stubbornly folded and she just couldn’t take what standing would mean.

Applejack shook her head and took a deep breath. The cold knifed into her lungs and she winced against the pain. It brought to mind an old trick she’d heard for dealing with the cold when you had to go out and work in it. Instead of fighting it, the key was to embrace it.

Her exhale puffed out a little cloud. She consciously breathed in again, letting the cold take another swing at her lungs. With an effort of will, she forced her shoulders to unknot, forced herself to stop hunching to retain warmth and let the wind blow against her full force.

It was cold, yes, and she was cold. Until the cold grew dangerous, she could accept it into herself. She took another breath and sighed, letting the tension and the warmth bleed out of her. There was a task before her and she would be cold until she completed that task. It was a simple as that.

The trembling of her limbs slowed and stopped. Discomfort was still present; she was still tired, sore, cold, and regretful. Applejack refused to let it matter. She had a job to do and if she did it right then her family members would sleep in the warmth. Maybe that would assuage her guilt for letting her temper get the best of her.

One foreleg, then the other. Then her hind legs slowly found footing and she was standing. Without letting her mental momentum fade, Applejack hefted the abandoned log once more and carried it to the opposite corner of the wood shack where the splitting stump waited.

She carefully placed the log on the stump, aligning just right so it wouldn’t fly away when she swung the maul down. Not the faintest hint of distaste crossed Applejack’s face as she laboriously lifted the heavy maul with her mouth. She judged the distance carefully and then let the maul's weight carry it down, striking the log dead center. With a thunk the first log was split.

The second log was worse, in a way. The effort splitting the first log had required was fresh in her mind, but the distance to the end seemed just as long as ever. Surely, she was due for a break, a traitorous part of her mind whispered.

She was not.

Without hesitation, Applejack lined up the second log and lifted the maul. It fell for a second time and with another thunk the second log was split.

A mindless rhythm developed. Applejack thought of nothing but the log before her and the maul in her mouth. Time passed, she was certain, but could not have said how much. All she knew was that she had to keep working until there was enough wood to keep her family warm. She was a farm pony; she’d know when she reached that point.

Sweat beaded on her coat as she worked and occasionally she had to wipe her mane out of her eyes. After splitting a particularly knotty log she wiped her eyes once more and realized quite suddenly that she was done.

There was a respectable pile of wood on the little cart just outside the shack door, just waiting to be carried to the barn and burned. It would be enough, Applejack knew. She was done at last.

Or not quite done. The wood still had to be brought to the barn after all. Applejack carefully packed the maul away, it wasn’t at fault for being a pain in the neck after all. Then, she hitched herself to the cart and trudged her way toward the barn.

Unloading went quickly compared to the long painful process of splitting the wood, though Applejack did carefully check each piece over for another hidden parasprite. At last the wood was unloaded and Applejack was satisfied that there would be no more pests devouring her firewood. She added a few pieces to the coals that had been left burning in the stove so the barn would be nice and toasty when the others settled in for the night.

After stowing the cart, Applejack trotted toward the main house to let everypony know that they wouldn’t be freezing tonight. As she neared the house some impulse made her sneak around the side to take a peek through a window into the main room.

Granny Smith must have ignored her instructions about the foals because there was a giant foal cuddle-pile in front the fire. Applejack chuckled as she saw Tiddly Pomme twitch in her sleep and poke the foal next to her into rolling over. There were little clumps of adults scattered throughout the room too. Some were speaking softly, others simply sat and enjoyed one another's company.

In one corner of the room the old phonograph had been brought back out. She could just make out the low strains of a love song as old as the couple that swayed gently to it. The love shining in their eyes was breathtaking even to where Applejack stood outside in the cold.

And she was cold, Applejack realized with start. That she was outside while her family slept and chatted and danced by the fire sent an icicle through her heart far colder than the wind could ever be. It shattered the indifference with which she’d held the cold at bay.

It didn’t have to be that way though, Applejack hoped. She was done splitting the wood and now she could rejoin her family and drink in the warmth she so desperately needed. Shivering, Applejack turned and made her way to the door.

A few ponies looked up as Applejack entered the room. “There’s wood in the barn,” she said softly, mindful of the sleeping foals. “I stoked the fire so it should be warm when y’all go to bed.”

Her words set off a muted flurry of activity. Parents carefully extracted their foals from the cuddle-pile. The phonograph was turned off and delicately stowed away. All those sitting groups got up and carried their glass off to the kitchen for washing. And through it all, not a single pony spoke to Applejack.

She understood why, of course, even if the exclusion still hurt. To be denied by her family, especially on Hearth’s Warming, was a painful thing. Beyond the straightforward discomfort of being given the cold shoulder, Applejack felt keenly the missed opportunity. There would only be so many evenings with the Apple family gathered all together and only a small number of those would be in her own home. To not receive acceptance after the work she’d put in to make the evening a success was almost more than she could bear.

It was more than she could bear to stand still for. She left the main room and took refuge in the kitchen. She could hear the clatter and murmur of ponies speaking as they left for the barn, but she could take no solace in it this time. Applejack clenched her eyes to keep her tears from falling as she listened to her family leave. She slumped on a stool at the kitchen counter and rested her face on the cool porcelain of the counter top.

Miraculous Visitors

Over the course of half an hour the noises grew quieter and quieter until Applejack was reasonably sure everypony had left for the night. At some point Apple Bloom had come into the kitchen and rested a hoof on Applejack’s shoulder before trotting over to the sink to take care of the last few mugs. Seeing her little sister step up like that was almost enough to make her smile.

Applejack was debating the merits of cleaning up against simply falling asleep face down on the counter when she heard a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Apple Bloom said, shutting off the water and placing the last of the mugs in the dish rack. Applejack was more than content to let her handle it, sure that somepony had merely decided they needed an extra blanket or something.

The front door creaked open and there was a moment of silence. “Well you’re clearly Apples,” Applejack heard Apple Bloom say, “but I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

“We’ve come a real long way, sugarcube. Mind if we come in for a spell?” The voice was masculine, warm and deep. And yet, somehow, it was more than that. It wrapped around Applejack in a comforting embrace and she felt safe and protected for the first time since she was a filly. It put her in mind of deep roots and tilled earth. Foundational, that was the word for the voice.

“Why don’t you gather up Granny Smith, Big Mac, and Applejack? I think they’ll want to see us too.” A second voice spoke, this one feminine. Sweet and musical it fell on Applejack’s ears like rain to the parched earth. Love. The voice was love itself. The love of leaves for the warm sun and the blue sky above. A love of growth and life and wonder.

Distantly, she heard Apple Bloom lead the strangers into the main room and seat them by the fire. Her little sister’s hooves clip-clopped up the stairs as she went to gather Big Mac and Granny Smith. Moving as if in a dream, Applejack raised her head and drifted toward the kitchen door. Slowly she peeked her head around the corner and took her first look at the visitors.

Seated before the Hearth’s Warming fire were her parents, Bright Mac and Pear Butter.

Pear Butter saw her first and her face lit up with pure joy. Bright Mac caught sight of his wife’s expression and he turned and saw her too. His grin was so wide it threatened to split his face in two. Both held out their forelegs for an embrace.

Applejack stumbled forward. “How? You can’t be here. It ain’t possible.” And then she took that last step and she was wrapped in her parents’ tight embrace.

“My dear dear daughter,” Pear Butter whispered. “My strong little pony.”

“Sugarcube,” was all Bright Mac said, but he held her tight enough to convey all the words he didn’t say.

They were warm against her fur. There was that smell that always reminded her of mother that she only now recognized as the scent of pear blossoms. And there was the smell of apples and hay that had always, always meant home.

“You’re here. Ma, Pa, you’re really here.” And the tears that Applejack had held inside her all evening, the tears that she had refused to cry ever since their funeral all finally found their way out.

“We’re here, Applejack,” Bright Mac said, rubbing her back in soothing circles. “You’ve had to be strong for the family for so long. But you’re safe here in our arms.”

Footsteps on the stairs and then Granny Smith saw just who it was that was visiting.

“My son, oh my son,” Granny Smith cried, rushing forward with Big Mac close behind. Pear Butter and Bright Mac’s embrace expanded to hold their family.

A small voice came stairs. “Applejack, is that really Mom and Dad?” Apple Bloom asked. She didn’t know, couldn’t know because she’d been too little to remember when they’d died, and she looked to the closest pony she had to a mother for confirmation.

The family looked back at her, eyes all shining with tears. Somehow, Applejack managed to swallow past the lump in her throat. “It’s them,” she said. “Mom and Dad have come home.”

Apple Bloom took a running start and leapt to join the group hug. The family, whole for the first time, sank to the floor by the fire, laughing and crying in equal measure.

It was a long time before anypony calmed enough to talk. Finally, the tears dried and laughter died down to the occasional giggle. Applejack asked the question that was on everypony’s mind.

“But how, how can you two be here?”

Bright Mac sat up straight and spoke in an imperious tone. “When the stars align with the paths of the apple orchard, when the family gathers near the zap apple grove, then the sands of time shall turn back and – ow!”

Pear Butter had swatted him upside the head and knocked him over into a nearby pile of pillows. “Quiet you. Stop tellin’ stories.”

Bright Mac came up pouting as his family chuckled at him. “I was just trying to make it interesting for them.”

His wife rolled her eyes, then turned to the family. “The truth is we don’t know. Maybe it’s magic, or mystery, or maybe one of the pies was off and this is a weird dream. We do know that we’ll be gone in the morning, so let’s make the most of the time we have.”

How do you fit a lifetime of the moments parents should have with their children into a single night? It’s impossible, of course, but the Apple family did the best they could with the time they had unexpectedly been given.

The night remained a happy blur to the living Apples, but a few moments stood out:

Big Mac sharing a cider with his father and hearing his father say, “I’m proud of who you’ve become, my son.” Telling his mother about the nice mare he’d met and receiving her advice on how to woo and win her heart, and what to do when he’d settled down.

Apple Bloom peppering her parents with the questions that had plagued her all her life. Hearing the story of how her parents had met in their own words. Showing off the cutie mark she’d finally earned and drinking in the approval she’d never thought she’d receive. Laughing as her father placed his Stetson on her head just in front of her bow.

Granny Smith receiving the thanks of her son and daughter-in-law for raising their children in their place. Reassuring her that the love she’d showered on the children, though it could never take the place of a parent’s love, had been exactly what the children needed. Whispering to her in words too quiet for the children to hear that when her time came they’d be waiting for her on the other side.

Applejack catching her father’s smile as his eyes darted to her Stetson and he said in words heavy with meaning, “so you kept it after all.” Shaking her hair loose and sitting by the fire as Pear Butter did up her braid just as she had when Applejack was a foal. Telling her parents about the evening's ups and downs and hearing their reassurances that she had done well with the celebration and that the family would forgive her for her small transgression.

They stayed up through the night, because how could you sleep those precious impossible moments away? And when the dawn neared the family bundled up against the cold and trotted out to the orchard’s hill to watch the sunrise.

As the night grew brighter the shapes of Pear Butter and Bright Mac, nestled in the heart of their family, grew fainter. The family kept speaking and laughing together, but the words were unimportant compared to the feeling behind them.

At last Bright Mac shook himself and stood. “It’s time,” he said.

There were no pleas for them to stay a little longer. All present knew that this night had been a gift unlooked for. To ask for more would have been so greedy as to render them unworthy of the given time. Instead, they simply offered tearful farewells.

Bright Mac and Pear Butter hugged each of their family in turn.

“We love you all,” they said together.

Applejack’s heart felt full near to bursting from the love of her family, as her parents turned and walked off into the rising sun.

There would be challenges in life, she knew, and perhaps the most immediate of those were early rising and irate members of her extended family. Ruffled fur would have to be soothed and apologies made.

She could handle it now.

No that’s not fair to say. Applejack was a strong and determined pony. She would have been able to handle it regardless. Now, though, after that miraculous night, she could handle it with a spring in her step and lightness in her heart.

Smiling broadly, she turned to Granny Smith, Big Mac, and Apple Bloom and gave voice to the feeling that filled her.

“Come on Apples, there’s work to be done!”

Author's Note

This story was inspired by this pmv (Link) and the album Roots by Woodlore (Link), especially the song "Shining Star".

I wanted to write an over the top happy story about family and togetherness for the holiday. More, I wanted to write about something utterly impossibly wonderful happening. I think as an author I often end up feeling like I'm putting characters I like in difficult situations for my own amusement and I wanted this story to be the opposite of that. Namely, a character placed in a happy situations regardless of the quality of the story produced. I think it's possible a better story would have left out Applejack's parents entirely and been about the challenges of handling families expectations, but that wasn't the story I wanted to write.

Happy holidays and I hope you have a wonderful new year!