Granny Smith’s Request
Breakfast at Sweet Apple Acres was a modest affair. Applejack was the first to wake up, closely followed by Applebloom. Together they cooked breakfast for the household, the smell of it filling the house completely. This scent would wake Big Mac from his deep sleep, who in turn would wake Granny Smith.
This particular day, Applebloom had felt adventurous and convinced Applejack to help her make their mother’s secret recipe, Apples ala Goldenrod. It was a delicious dish, chunks of apple sitting on top of a bed of sweet alfalfa with a coating of warm applesauce and cinnamon.
As Big Mac made his trip to Granny’s room, a tear came into his eye. Applejack had still been very young when their mother, Pink Lady, had passed away giving birth to Applebloom. The scent of breakfast this morning was exactly as he remembered it had been when their mother had made it.
He shook his head as he entered Granny Smith’s little room. It was hardly more than an attic really, but she had refused to move closer to the ground even in her old age. She lay in her bed, a small, handcrafted piece of furniture, a heavy comforter moving barely perceptibly as she breathed in and out raspily.
With a gentle nudge, Big Mac woke her. She took in a deep, shaky breath. “Look et’ yeh, already up and about. Yer a good boy.” Big Mac carefully pulled the comforter off of Granny, helping her to her hooves as he did so. She took a deep sniff at the air. “Do I smell,” Her usually groggy voice perked slightly. “The Pink Lady Special?”
Big Mac nodded slowly. “Eeyup.”
Granny Smith gave a small hop, Big Mac steadying her as she stumbled. “Very kind uh yeh, Macintosh.” She grabbed her walker and began the long climb down the stairs. Big Mac stood behind her the entire way, prepared to help her if anything went wrong, as frequently did.
As they reached the ground floor, Applejack and Applebloom were sitting at the table. Applebloom was bouncing in her seat impatiently. “Come on, it’ll get cold!” She exclaimed, making the two late arrivals smile lightly.
Breakfast proceeded in a way anyone could expect. Applebloom insisted on everyone having seconds, and Big Mac asked for thirds just to finish it off. Granny Smith and Applebloom went to clean the dishes as Applejack and Big Mac left to begin the work on the orchard. Spring time was just beginning, so their work was to uproot the oldest and weakest trees and plant new ones in their place.
As they walked toward the area in question, a place Applebloom and her friends called Crabapple Hill, Applejack spoke animatedly about her morning. “Y’know Applebloom practically made that breakfast on ‘er own! All I did was dig up the recipe and get ‘er the ingredients.” She chuckled. “That filly’s gunna be one fine cook some day!”
“Eeyup.” Big Mac responded, his thoughts elsewhere.
Applejack nudged Macintosh. “Is something wrong, Mac?” Applejack asked. “You just walked past the turn off toward the orchard.”
Big Mac shook his head. “Nnope. I was just thinking about something.”
Applejack cocked her head to one side as they began walking toward the ancient trees. “About what?”
“Apple Cider.” Big Mac said simply.
“What about dad?” Applejack was surprised.
Big Mac chuckled. “No, I meant the old cider stores. I’m thinking which batch would be best for Granny.”
“Why does she need cider for this time of year? We usually only have it for the harvest festival.”
Big Mac shook his head. “Even Granny’s forgotten why. But she made me promise to always get her a cup of hot apple cider on this day of the year.”
Applejack looked at Big Mac strangely, and then shrugged. “Well, if Granny made you promise, you better keep that promise. But keep the thinking ‘til after replanting. I don’t need you distracted while we work.”
Big Mac simply responded with his trademark “Eeyup,” before they began work.
The work was long and difficult. Applejack would buck the trees with extra force to dislodge the branches, and Big Mac would hitch his harness to the trunks and force them from the ground. The spring rains made this somewhat easier, but still a difficulty.
The sun was resting on the distant hills when they finally finished. Walking back from Crabapple Hill, Mac’s thoughts turned back to his longstanding agreement with Granny. Applejack headed indoors to make dinner for the family, and Big Mac treaded toward the cellar doors.
The doors were placed at just the right angle so that the setting sun would illuminate the whole space. Big Mac strolled along the casks lined up along the wall. A short plaque on each shelf gave the year it had been brewed, and smaller plaques on each barrel told the recipe.
Moving over to a shelf dated to be almost as old as Granny Smith herself. Selecting the barrel that had a decent proportion of cloves, cinnamon and a little nutmeg, Big Mac pulled the barrel off the shelf. Walking up the steps as the cellar was cast back into darkness.
Inside, he carries the barrel into the kitchen, setting it next to the stove as Applejack brings out a pot of mashed potatoes. Dinner proceeds, Applejack giving a few interesting anecdotes about their work over the course of the day, Applebloom shared the talents she and her friends had successfully crossed off their list of possibilities, and Granny Smith fell asleep, her face covered in potatoes.
After clearing the dishes, Macintosh poured the contents of the barrel into a pot, placing it on the stove. He gently stirred it as it warmed up, watching the herbs and cloves slowly make their way around the pot. His mind glazed over, thoughts of intricate patterns, lightning, and higher mathematics moved through his head.
Soon the aroma of the cider woke him from his thoughts. Macintosh filed his ideas into a corner of his mind, and dished up two mugs full. He carefully carried both mugs out to the porch where Granny Smith sat gazing into the silhouette of Ponyville on the horizon.
Putting down his own mug, Macintosh wrapped both of Granny Smith’s hooves around the second mug. She looked down at the drink, and then smiled at Macintosh. “Thank ye, Macintosh.” She settled down in her chair, sipping her cider.
Macintosh settled down next to her, holding his own mug firmly. They both looked into the distance until the last few rays of Celestia’s sun were all that graced the horizon.
“Macintosh,” Granny Smith’s voice had lost its usual wandering rhythm. “Aye’m old, Macintosh.”
Either of his sisters would have objected, but Macintosh just nodded quietly. “Eeyup. Older ‘an Ponyville.”
Granny looked at Macintosh, a strangely focused look in her eyes. “Aye know. But, I’m afraid. Y’see, with yer parents gone, I think I see the end of the Apple family.”
Macintosh’s ears perked up in alarm, though he showed no other signs of concern. “Granny, just ‘cause AJ hasn’t met her proper stallion yet, don’t mean she won’t ever find him. And asides, we’ve got all our cousins and other relatives.”
Granny shook her head. “None of ‘em er proper Apples. They left th’orchards, off to their big city folk plans. An Applejack, well, she’s a mare. She may be born an Apple, but her children will be a part of ‘er husband’s family.”
Macintosh sat in silence, taking a sip of his cider. He had never thought about it before, but he was the only lifeline of the Apple family, at least in Ponyville. “Ah s’pose Ah could use a special somepony in mah life.”
“Find someone, Macintosh. Don’t let the Apple family die out.”
He met Granny’s gaze, and then nodded his head. “Ah promise, Ah’ll find ah special somepony. Cain’t promise it’ll go further, but Ah’ll promise yeh that much.”
Granny turned away, looking off into the distance once more. “That’ll do, Macintosh, that’ll do.”
Macintosh nodded thoughtfully. “My work’ll take a bit of slack… Though, I s’pose AJ could pick up where I leave off. An perhaps Applebloom would be willing to pick up the sales end fer a while.”
Granny Smith nodded, her voice regaining its lost and wandering note. “That’s some good thinking, Macintosh.” She drained what remained of her cider in a single gulp. “Welp, better be ‘eading back to bed. G’night Macintosh. Sweet dreams.”
Granny hauled herself shakily to her hooves. Macintosh finished his own cider and walked a short distance behind Granny. For the laborious process of climbing the stairs, Big Macintosh helped to steady her, and provided silent support.
Eventually they reached the attic floor and Granny’s room. She hobbled her way to the bedside, crawling under the vast comforter. As she began to fade to complete sleep, Macintosh turned off the single gas lamp that lit the room, closing the door silently.
Walking down to his room, Macintosh considered what Granny had asked. It wasn’t the first time that his family had tried to bring romance into his life. Hearts and Hooves day from two years ago certainly came to mind. But this was the first time he had been asked to find a mare for himself.
In a way, this was a blessing. He may know less about love than he did about some higher mathematics, but he knew it couldn’t be forced onto anypony. The difficulty would be finding somepony. Closing the door of his room, Macintosh decided to sleep on it.
As he drifted off, visions of a faceless mare seemed to move on the edge of his mind. Aspects of her seemed to fade in and out. One moment a unicorn, next a pegasus, and then an earth pony. She was as powerful as AJ one moment, graceful the next; an intellectual for a few seconds, a simple cheerful woman the next. Possibilities drifted back and forth through his mind as he slipped into a deep sleep.
