Extra A/N:
Since the Princess has not yet established a yearly calendar, I’m going to do my best to make sure the following series of flashbacks are in chronological order (earliest to newest); it is safe to say that each scene will not be within the same year as any other.

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Flashback: A Long Time Ago, Near The Founding Of Ponyville**
**Pear Nuts**

“How’s our stallion doing?” Asked one of my mares, Ginger Snap, before greeting me with a kiss; she started calling herself Ginger Pear after she joined our herd so many summers ago. She was actually living at the base of the Canterhorn with a number of nature-pony families; and when she heard that we -along with a few other herds- were given permission to form a new settlement within eyesight of our capitol, she became very interested.

The nature-ponies around the Canterhorn have a more difficult time, I think, than they probably should. The 'discs' or 'shelves' or 'plates' -or whatever they're called- of Canterlot are still developing, and at the time looked like it would be several generations more before large numbers of common ponies could settle upon the mountain safely.

The primary landmass we call the Canterhorn was the tallest of a tight cluster of mountains. It was a great effort of generations to clear out the unstable stone and rock, remove the narrowing peaks, reinforce absolutely everything, and then lay foundations for the discs.

The logistics requires labor, food, housing, planning, engineering, transportation, and lots of safety preparations on scales far beyond most ponies’ ability to imagine. That was partly the reason the Ponyville proposal was granted: a nearby and untapped agricultural prospect to help feed the massive construction efforts. The attempt was not made previously due to the proximity of the Everfree, and resources could not be spared to tame it; but we all volunteered knowing the risks and the potential rewards, and with the Princess’ blessing set out on this audacious vision.

While it is a great undertaking, it is also not for everypony. Starting a new town is something a pony can wrap her mind around, but it is a lot harder than most ponies think it is; and that is how Ginger joined our family and migrated from Canterlot.

We were all migratory before this by going from town to town bartering mostly in seed or seasonal labor according to our skills.

The idea to turn this untapped land into a prosperous agricultural hub actually came from the Apples which is why their family was granted the primary title for the township. It took convincing, because it was -and still is if you think about it- more than a little crazy.

Nopony holds that against the Apples, though. It’s not as though ponies are covetous like Griffons can be or greedy like Dragons definitely are if the stories about those creatures are true. I haven’t actually met any.

I swallow and breathe a bit before answering. It’s always stressful when one of my mares gives birth. “Nervous,” I tell Ginger.

To be comforting, she nuzzles up to me, “D’Anjou’s returned from patrol and insisted she go help. So, I came to rest with you.” She looks at me with trace amounts of worry, “What do you need right now, love?”

D’Anjou emigrated to Equestria from Prance. As a protectorate, they still maintain partial independent sovereignty. One of the first international branches of the Heroines’ Guild of Equestria were established in Prance while we shut ours down a while ago. Since our domestic closures, heroines have not operated within Equestrian borders; however, the founding of Ponyville right next to the Everfree was granted a temporary exception.

D’Anjou came from a very distant branch of the Prench Pear family; and when she sought adventures in the new Ponyville, ‘ze outpost by ze Everfree,’ as she would say, she naturally gravitated to us Pears. She and I really hit it off.

She once saved this town from an entire pack of Timberwolves while wielding our ploughshare much like the legendary Rockhoof and his shovel.

The temporary reinstatement of the Heroines’ Guild operations has long since been rescinded, but she still goes on patrol. From time to time, she will even venture into the Everfree for various reasons. My spicy accented foreign mare will also help train new Royal Rangers who receive orders to station in town about specific issues regarding the Everfree that standard Guard training has no reason to cover.

“Ah just want to know she’s okay,” I answer, “and the foal.”

Ginger replies, “Pear Shaped should be finishing up soon.” She lays with me, and we nuzzle while we wait. It is uncharacteristically quiet today.

Pear Shaped -we call her, ‘Shay,’ sometimes- is the pureblood Pear in this herd. My pre-herd -or baccalaureate- name was Trees. Shay joined the growing caravan of ponies migrating south of Vanhoover of which the Apples were the largest group. She met me when they traveled through the Prairies north of Canterlot on the way to Chicoltgo and Whinneyapolis, and I fell head-over-hooves for her.

My family’s herd was not pleased, but they have visited and approved since especially when seeing our foals.

From D’Anjou, we have Green Anjou, Red Anjou, Sweet Strike, and Pear Tarte who we also call, ‘Pear Pie,’ but isn’t a member of the Pie Family -all fillies.

From Ginger, we have Concord Pear, Pear Blossom, and Prickly “Willy” Pear -all fillies.

From Pear Shaped, we have Pear Crisp, Pear Sauce, Candied Pear, and Cornice Pear -almost all fillies and soon to increase by one more.

Ginger breaks the silence, “Cornice and the older fillies ought to be getting the shipment ready.” Foaling or not, we still have commitments and contracts; although I argued against Cornice going without one of his dams nearby, his older sisters are mature enough to take care of the colt.

The Rich mares have a scheduled wagon train of supplies to bring up to the Canterhorn. Sometimes D’Anjou and a few other locals goes with them for protection or to help pull the loads.

A soft knock comes from the door, and Ginger says, “Come in.”

D’Anjou enters and quietly says with her exotic Prench accent, “Sorree to interrupt, but someponee would like to say, ‘Bonjour.’” She adds when she looks at us, “Shay’s sleeping and fine.” Carrying a little bundle over to a crib, Anjy sets it down and makes room for Ginger and I to get a closer look.

A foal of an almost-tan, almost gold with a hint of green, and a multi-brown mane lay sleeping soundly. We both lower our muzzles to the infant’s and sniff a bunch, and he wiggles a little from the gentle tickle of our breaths.

“‘Iz name iz, ‘Grand Pear.’”

Ginger and I looked at D’Anjou. She asks Anjy, “He? He’s a colt?” D'Anjou nods happily.

A herd is guaranteed to work with fillies, but it is guaranteed to grow with a colt. With some quiet kisses and greetings, “It’s nice to meet you, Grand Pear, and welcome to the family,” we stealthily left to go congratulate Pear Shaped if she was awake. I’ll make sure her favorite dinner is ready tonight.

Just before I closed the door behind my herdsmares, a familiar sound carried into the house from the farm next door. A great noise like a moose bending a rhinoceros to her will complete with moans and a thumping of some wooden structure permeate the air.

Ginger and D’Anjou stop and flick their ears towards it, and the former remarks, “Sounds like that Apple mare is mating with her stallion again.”

It’s not long before our new foal begins to sputter in tandem with that racket and then breaks into a full cry.

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Flashback: A Few Years Later, Springtime**
**Grand Pear**

Dam says I might be big enough to fit in Sire’s plow soon -maybe two more birthdays; but we need to get this field tilled up, so I’m doing my best with what I have available.

It’s a particularly warm spring this year, and the Everfree seems to be adding to it somehow.

Perfect Pear Orchard is south and southwest of town. Our southern boundaries are mostly lined by the Everfree. Some of the northern property lines are from the Little Pony River that comes down from the Canterhorn and swings around the town. The crescent of land mostly formed by the Everfree and the Little Pony River is occupied by two farming families: us Pears… and the Apples.

It's not a small cut of land either. Several of my family would have to dedicate significant time and energy to plowing each parcel. In the past, it would get done quicker, but several of my sisters have herded off around my last birthday or two; and our numbers are fewer this Spring.

There are trees lining the area around the Little Pony to prevent erosion, but most of the orchard are on the slopes that face east. One might expect those to be on the eastern sides of the property, but they’re not; the best places for the trees to catch light are on the western side of the family’s land which is also a little ways away from the Everfree.

This means more of the land we use for vegetables and grains are closer to the forest and Sweet Apple Acres.

There is a small team of pegasi from the national Weather Service stationed in town. Despite our crops’ location, they won’t allow us to divert any of the River with pony-made trench to help water the plants.

Construction is underway for a reservoir just on the other side of our Orchard and downstream a bit. In order to maintain proper building conditions and reservoir volume projections, we were not allowed to continue with my mother’s genius suggestion.

I really miss mom D’Anjou, but she volunteered to push those creatures back into the Everfree. “Zose Ranger foals need to zee a real mare en action, Grand.” With a kiss and a wink, she led the charge wielding her ball-headed club. The Rangers gave her full honors according to their branch of the royal military and the Heroines’ Guild.

They said her last words were, “Eet was… fun.”

Red, Green, and Tarte -all mom D’Anjou’s fillies- enlisted in the Royal Rangers after that. The house was noticeably emptier after that. Sire took it pretty hard.

Mom Ginger said that was the primary reason the Heroines’ Guild was shut down in the first place: too many of Equestria’s bravest found reasons to run into more danger than we were prepared to lose.

Saddle Lake is upstream of the town, and the Weather Service do not use it. There was some objection about water purity. I think they added some water plants and fish to aid that. So, the decision to build the reservoir was submitted by the pegasi and sent through the Mayor’s office to the Princess for approval back when I was still learning to walk.

Now, we are not able to supplement the water needs of our crops as much as the plants would like; and we are wholly dependent on scheduled rains and water deliveries to our water silos.

There are also days like today when there are no winds or breezes, and the distance from the cooling effects of Saddle Lake do not reach us. We cannot make our own little runoff pond from the Little Pony; so, the temperatures can feel stifling out here on our eastern field.

The Apples have some fruit trees along the banks of the Little Pony, too, but they have several other locations for them. One might not expect this to affect us much, but it does. They help funnel sounds and winds along the crescent as does the Everfree.

Winds from the north sweep around their side of the crescent and get redirected towards Perfect Pear Orchard. Winds from the east go our way, naturally. Winds from the west go across town, come into contact with the Everfree, and then sweep north and south down the crescent and back to Perfect Pear Orchard.

Townsponies have asked me, ‘What’s wrong with that?’ And, ‘Doesn’t that just let the smell of apples waft your way?’

The smell of Apples wafts our way alright, but it’s not a bouquet of apple trees. No. It’s that Granny Smith and her stallion.

Every Pear knows the fresh tang and petrichor of those two, and the sound travels… It always travels. I don’t know if I remember a meal without one or more of my senses being inundated. Most of the time, I have to spend my day choring.

Whenever there is an opportunity to go to town, though, I take it; but my family are cautious about a young stallion wandering around by himself. Any opportunity for some clean air is worth sacrificing some chore time.

Sometimes, I mare the Pear stall in the town market; but as much as a respite that is on my senses, it comes with its own form of contention. One of the Apple mares or fillies will inevitably get into some kind of competition, and it usually devolves into something I would like to avoid.

I’m not sure which one I like less: the sounds and smells they waft over to our farm, or antagonism in the market.

They built a schoolhouse this year, but I’m too old to attend. It’s on the Ponyville-side of the Little Pony and out of the wafting range of Sweet Apple Acres. I think I would have enjoyed spending part of my day there.

But today is windless, and they seem to be taking a break right now. I only have to drag the plough through the hot, dry ground while covered in sweat, and in a relatively peaceful silence.

Thank Celestia for small mercies. I was able to work for a measurable percentage of the day before the music of -what I can only assume is- a cross between a baboon and a panther in heat trying to subjugate an elk.

I can see their silhouettes from here. I don’t think I’ll ever understand the logistics of that. I know they still get their chores done. But how though?

“Hey!”

“Huh?” I look around at the sound which brought me out of my reverie. My dam and two of my unherded sisters are approaching. Candy and Willy are looking away; one is carrying two yokes, and the other has two mare-sized plowshares.

Dam says, “You’ve been staring at them Apple’s and their private time fer nearly an hour. You know that?”

What? An hour? That’s… “Ah- Ah’m sorry, dam. Ah didn’t-”

She continues, “You were supposed to have this section finished by the end o’ the day. How are you supposed to do that when ye’re taking breaks and… dropping out?” Dam admonishes me, “You know what they’re like, but you go on and do this? Ah ‘xpect better from you, Grand Pear.”

Dropping out!? I look down under my barrel, and sure enough dam is right. I’m fully exposed. All because of those Apples, I was slacking on my duties and will have difficult time continuing. I feel ashamed.

Dam sighs, “None of us’re gonna help you with that,” my sisters balk at the idea as well they should, “and Ah ain’t sendin’ you over to the Apples.” They recoil at that, “Celestia knows they wouldn’t turn any stallion away, but ye’ve gotta go take care of it yerself. Y’hear? Wouldn’t be a problem if’n you had a mare of yer own, Grand.”

I disconnect myself from my plow, “Y- yes, dam. Ah’m s- sorry.” I’ll go lay down in the Little Pony River, I guess.

I can’t believe I reacted to those Apples this way. Am I… I’m not a good pony right now, am I? Dam’s right. I’ve got to be better. I can’t be like that Apple stallion.

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Flashback: A Few Years Later**
**Grand Pear**

Over near the property line between us and the Apples, it’s actually rather quiet for once. I’ve come to greatly enjoy these special times of peaceful silence.

Sire had an idea to help generate some revenue: add some cottages to the property and let them out. He thought there might be some bits in it if the new train system picks up. There were other rail lines; but since Ponyville is a relatively new town, the crown wanted to wait and see if Ponyville would remain viable for an investment in more permanent transportation. Most ponies will be going through here to Canterlot, but the prices there are higher; so there could be a market.

The forest to the south is elevated compared to the whole of Ponyville. It slopes downwards away from itself. Depending on the wild weather patterns that can happen in the Everfree, some runoff can come down and flow into the Little Pony River. There is a little creek that usually runs all year -except Winter- and serves as a border between Sweet Apple Acres and Perfect Pear Orchard. It’s right next to that creek where we planned to put the first cottage. The area is a little overgrown, and larger trees will return; eventually, the Everfree may reclaim a little of the land there if it’s not tended properly. Good news is that it does take time for new groves to re-adapt to the undomesticated wilds of the forest beyond.

The cottage will give me less opportunities to be so close to the Apple’s land after it’s built, but it needs to be built first. Finding rocks for the foundation are easy enough; every farmpony has piles of them as they regularly pop out of the ground when plowing. However, the wood will have to come from somewhere.

The cheapest source of wood we have are our own. The problem with this is that the most abundant source of wood at Perfect Pear Orchard are pear trees. It is a very nice hardwood, but those trees all have jobs, and taking any down will reduce our bottom line further.

Taking wood from the Everfree also has its share of issues. There is a reason why ponies never took to lumbering that resource: monsters. When we settled the place, we cleared out the very edges and eaves, but nopony ever cut into the forest itself. Even the plants in there will retaliate. It’s just not worth it.

Sire wants the building up this year, so I may need permission to clear some pear trees if I can convince him, dam, and mom that we could start some new ones. We had a dedicated space to growing pear wood for construction a while ago -before mom D’Anjou left us for the Everlasting Graze- but my parents converted that to fruit production. It’ll take a few summers, but we could have that again. Luckily, working with pear wood falls into our talents as well as the other peripheral farming tasks involving the fruit.

We’ll probably also need to put in a hoof-bridge depending on where the path to the future building is set.

I also read something about coiled copper tubes being capable of heating hot water tanks. If we can find the bits, I’d happily add that to this cottage and to our family home. We might not have lots of beam-sized logs for construction right now, but we do have a lot of twigs and branches which could be used for more than just compost. Doubling the use of the fireplace without increasing the fuel consumption would only pay for itself, but altering our current home heating system would be more difficult than starting this cottage with this design.

Metal tubes are expensive, though…

“Hi, Grand,” a mare says as she approaches which brings me out of my planning. Bonny Blue is a mare who came to town with her family’s herd not long ago. They have great talents with flowers and pollination.

She’s the only one of her family with wings. Instead of specializing in weather-based talents as most pegasi, she loves things that grow just like the rest of the Flower family.

I have talked with her a few times in town. She’s a friendly pony, but I didn’t think too much of it. Ponies have long noticed the business competition between us and the Apples and try to avoid getting mixed up in the contention.

Unfortunately, this means most ponies are hesitant about making friends with me. Most who are brave enough to cross that line and act on their inquisitiveness tend to give in to the social pressure and back off. Another mare, Cinnamon Twist, seems to be

She is a curious mare, too. Often at her family’s stand in the market, one can find her reading something, and it is rarely a novel. She likes real stories more than fictional ones and takes enjoyment from more than just floriculture.

Earlier today, I hauled several loads over to the new train station on the northwesterly side of town and made a few deliveries to some businesses and ponies’ homes. As I was finishing up for the day, Bonny asked me to walk with her somewhere.

It’s not the first time somepony has asked me out on a date, but it is the first time a pegasus asked me. Most of her family are nature-ponies.

“Bonny,” I say, “how’re you now?”

“Good’n’ you?” She replies.

“Not so bad,” I answer.

She asks, “What are you doing?”

I reply, “My sire asked me to start planning a side business for the farm.” I’d like to change the subject just in case the Apples get wind of our plans and find yet another way to compete with our farm’s solvency. “But you asked to meet me.”

She nods, “Ah wanted to maybe get to know you some more. Y’know, it’s not easy for a mare to see a stallion working so hard all the time… but it’s also quite nice to see a stallion in such good shape.” Bonny looks a way briefly and says something about ‘getting sweaty.’

I need to navigate this. Some ponies just want to be friends. Some have been only interested in me. Some, like the Rich mares, may be interested in the business of the Pear farm. Several mares only show interest because I’m stallion.

All of those things are fine to some degree, but I don’t want to be ‘an option.’ I’d rather somepony be interested in me, because I am me. Although, I don’t mind a business-minded mare so long as she understands we have tight competition right next door.

Now that I think about it, just about everything around here seems to have some connection to that competition: farm better than the Apples, sell better than the Apples, make friends better than the Apples, make foals better than the Apples…

My parents have been pressuring me about that last one especially. They do their best but are getting older, and I don’t think anystallion can measure up to that Apple stallion unless the legendary Rockhoof himself were to appear in the flesh.

“Grand?”

“Huh? Oh,” I apologize and realize we’re both laying in the grass next to each other with our backs to the west -backs to the Apple farm, “Sorry. Ah got lost in my head for a second there.”

She agrees, “Farm work does make for lots of thinkin’ time.”

Smirking, I add, “This afternoon’s been a little more so.”

“Oh?” She seems genuinely curious.

I nod, “It has been rather quiet this afternoon. Makes it so much easier to think, to concentrate, to work…”

Tilting her head and raising an eyebrow, “What do you mean? Isn’t it usually like this?”

I begin, “Uh~” and as if on que, the Apple stallion seems to have either caught or been caught by that Granny Smith. I have more than enough experience with their antics to know they’re not particularly close, but that doesn’t mean they don’t sound like they are.

Bonny jumps up, “What is that?” And she spins around trying to locate the sound of the commotion. “Do you hear that?”

I sigh, “Yeah.” I suppose it was bound to happen. There was too much peace and quiet.

“It- it sounds like…” She trails off a bit.

I repeat, “Yeah.”

She asks quietly, “Do they, um… is it like this often?”

Once again, I say, “Yeah.”

“But… but it’s already been a few minutes…”

Well, I guess this date is over, “Yeah.”

“Is it really true? The rumors?” She breathes, “He’s really workin’ hard over there.”

Before I can respond, she flies off toward the two Apples hidden somewhere near their south orchard just beyond their south field. She will have herself a wonderful afternoon -and possibly a very memorable evening.

No other stallion can compete with that. It’s not the first time I lost a date this way.

With another sigh, I get up, “Guess it’s time to get some work done before the Apple ‘fog’ rolls over thisaways.”

**Ponyville General Hospital, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Flashback: A Few Years Later**
**Grand Pear**

“What?” I ask.

“I said, ‘the ‘dysfunction’ with the tissues in question is neither pharmacological not physical.’” Doctor Suture explains the results of the tests as Nurse Purple Heart passes me copies of the documents. “And, no, you’re not allergic to apples.”

“I wasn’t talking about the fruit,” I mumble. Besides, I never eat them.

The doctor continues, “By process of elimination, I can only assume the issue is psychological.”

“So,” I try to conclude, “my inabilities with my mares are~?”

He finishes, “Symptoms and not the cause.”

I ask, “What, then, is the cause?”

He shrugs, “You tell me, Mr. Pear. What’s causing you to have your bedroom troubles?”

What is there to say? I’ve spent my whole life around all of those sounds and smells which come from Sweet Apple Acres. The very thought of being a source of those things myself is repulsive.

I can’t work on the eastern fields anymore without getting physically ill. It doesn’t stop my dam or sisters from sending me there, but I rarely get a full day’s work completed over there.

I’ve always had issues getting a full night’s sleep, but it feels like it’s starting to take a toll. Each season that comes and goes, I can feel myself become a little more irritable; my mind has a little more trouble focusing.

“Ah love my mares. Ah want them to feel loved, but… Ah just can’t,” I answer.

Everytime I think about doing those things, I hear those sounds; I see those things; my senses are overwhelmed with those memories -years and years of them. I fail them every time and break down before them. Cinnamon Pear, my loving lead mare, never ceases to comfort me; but I know my failure is affecting her, too -all of them.

Doctor Suture sighs, “Well, if we can’t isolate the cause, and we can’t get a sample, then my ability to help is limited.” He nods to Nurse Purple Heart who returns the nod, turns around, and flags her tail at me.

“You’re quite beautiful, Miss Heart,” I admit, “but…” I just shake my head and shrug, “Ah’m sorry. Ah wish Ah could.”

She turns back around and lowers her tail, “It was worth a shot.”

I apologize, “Ah’m sorry if Ah insulted you-”

But she shakes her head, “-You have a medical condition, Mr. Pear. It’s not your fault. We’re just,” she looks to the doctor who nods permission for her to continue, “well, we don’t have a lot of precedence for this. So, our solutions are few.”

The doctor adds, “We’ll try a few… creative treatments; but to be honest, we aren’t sure if they’ll work.”

I sigh feeling more tired. Suture sees this and suggests, “Have you thought about taking a vacation?”

“What? A vacation?” I ask, “Ah can’t afford to stall the farm as it is.” But if I could, then that might be a decent idea.

Our farm has been on a slow decline throughout my entire lifetime. Part of that is due to a shortage of hooves; more than a few of my siblings have left Ponyville to look for herds and stallions of their own.

The odds of finding a herd is always pretty good; the odds of finding a stallion will vary depending on the area being searched; the odds of finding either willing to relocate to the home of one member is understandably low.

*“Grand?”

My sire’s plan to have rental properties has not shown the returns he hoped it would. It ended up requiring more resources than was profitable.

A few Autumns ago, when Cinnamon and I started our herd, she suggested we spice the pear cider. It worked well, but then the Apples started to spice their regular cider and then their hard cider. So we spiced ours. I think we might be able to increase sales with a specialty Hearths’ Warming holiday cider. Cinnamon read a book in the town Library last summer about a different way to ferment the juice; it will have a higher magical content, and we were able to make a test batch that we all agree was as successful as it was potent.

We already have a name picked out for it, ‘Hard Morning Rooster.’ My vote for the new cider was, ‘Slippa-din,’ but the mares didn’t think a nonsense word was as inspiring.

I always liked that library probably because it’s a tree, but it’s also quiet -just the right thickness to block out most sounds.

*“Mr. Pear?”

Ah, but all of these attempts to improve products or attract customers boil down expenses; and unless they show returns, the losses cannot be recuperated. They could be bits down the proverbial drain.

I look to Doctor Suture who throws out another idea, “-be dietary. I could recommend you eat certain foods high in estrogen. This is the hormone that increases a mare’s sex drive and has been shown to act as an aphrodisiac for stallions.”

Dietary what? Oh, please don’t tell me to eat apples. “Uh, what kinds of foods?” I ask.

He replies by opening a textbook to a marked page, “Certain beans, some rose hips, and,” he turns the page, “a few types of meats.”

I concede, “Suppose the beans and rose hips wouldn’t be too bad.”

The doctor continues, “I am also going to prescribe your mares aid you,” and hoofs me the paperwork to bring to my mares.

“Aid?” I ask.

He nods, “Yes. Daily. Orally if it’s warranted, but they must get you to finish.”

“Wh- what do you mean?”

He sets the textbook down, “Grand Pear, it is clear that there is some kind of stimulus in your life that is affecting your psyche. I don’t know what that is; so, in order to break whatever habit is creating the negative feedback, it is important to create a new cycle to replace or override the other.” He sighs, “If it is all in your mind, then it is possible to bypass the inhibitive happenstances by introducing an alternative, positive route; after enough repetition, the new habit ought to replace the old one. And then you and your herd can move on from this, and start foaling.”

Easier said than done.

I acquiesce but wonder, “Did you have to prescribe this, though?”

He turns to his nurse a says, “I mean look at this fine mare.” He places a hoof under her tail, “The heat coming off of her is incredible." He drops out of his own sheath right there, and I can't keep the cringe from vibrating down my back. "No healthy stallion would have turned this down. So, yes,” he states flat out, “I did have to prescribe snuggling activities, and I will have copies hoof delivered if your mares don’t receive that paperwork.”

“Ah thought you’d maybe tell me some jokes or something,” I complain, “You know, make me feel better even though you didn’t have great news for me.”

He tilts his head, “I don’t -what?- uh, why would… Grand Pear, I’m a doctor not a clown. Sorry. Besides, I don’t have anything prepared, but,” he taps his chin with a hoof, “I can see some meritorious connection to health and brevity. Perhaps I can look into it?”

His other hoof is still under the nurse's tail, and she's staring at him in a way that looks to me like, 'Will you stop teasing already?'

“Anyway,” the doctor continues, “do you have any questions about that subject?”

I shake my head, “No, sir.” I want to get out of here and away from his exposed flesh.

“Alright, then on to the next topic-”

“What ‘next topic?’” I ask. “I thought we were just here for my -uh- you know.”

He nods but says, “There were several instances during this visit where you looked like you were losing focus, Grand; and when Nurse Heart or I tried to get your attention about it, you seemed like you had not heard us. We have some audiology equipment in another room, and I would like to run some tests.”

I can’t believe this, “I can hear just fine, doc.” I can hear those Apples at all times of the day and night from almost any point on my Orchard. Celestia knows I can hear.

Suture replies delicately, “Even if it’s just to rule out a potential issue, I think it would be worth a few minutes. Don’t you?” He's just going to let himself hang out here the rest of the time. Isn't he?

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Flashback: A Few Years Later**
**Grand Pear**

The numbers are not looking good. At least, I'm pretty sure I did my maths right. Hard to say when I can't remember the last time I've had a full night's sleep. Although, last night wasn't so bad...

The cider race was successful in that we were able to provide a quality product to compete with the Apple's 'Mare Diesel,' but a ruling came down from Canterlot to heavily curtail production, sale, and even limited the uses for our 'Hard Morning Rooster' and our competitor's version of it. I understand why the decision was made. I even agree with it: both products were too strong for standard consumption. But that doesn't change the fact that it was an investment that set us back.

My sisters have about all found herds of their own, but they can only come back to visit or help certain times of the year. Most of them have their own harvest times on which they need to focus their own resources. Sire and Dam weren't young when they had me and moved on to the Everlasting Graze a few Summers ago. They put their savings back into keeping the farm afloat in their last years and didn't tell me.

And my... inability to produce heirs the way they pump them out over at Sweet Apple Acres hasn't helped keep our labor costs down. Hiring help isn't cheap, but I can't hide it anymore: the Pears are dwindling.

I looked into selling some property. Even though the rail line came in and increased traffic, the renting never quite caught on. The Apples sponsored a small inn near the station; and as Canterlot has developed, their available space has increased. With more space, the premium for rooms hasn't spiked the way my Sire thought it would.

We do have a few decent dwellings on the land. A realtor sent out some notices to other agencies, and I met with some very kind but shy mares. They really liked the creek that flows right by it. The Shy's have some important positions in the Weather Factory; I don't know what, but they mentioned using the place as a vacation home. As such, they won't be there year 'round, but I think they'll be better neighbors than our current ones.

Even so, I won't be able to keep Perfect Pear Orchard solvent by just that one sale. I will have to sell the other cottages, too.

Cinnamon Pear and Pear Juice will not like any of this. They haven't asked about the situation in a while, and I haven't told them about the sale contract with the Shy herd for that cottage. That will not be an easy discussion.

It's going to rub against their maresculinity. I don't mean for that. I love them, but what else could I do!? Operating costs have to be met. Investments that turned out losses still have to be paid off. Bills have to be resolved.

What am I going to say, though? How am I supposed to tell them?

"Honey!" The shout comes from the front door.

I reply, "In the office!"

As I await Cinnamon to come through the house, I have to force myself to breathe. Soon, she enters the little room with our desks, files, and family documents.

"Hi, Cin," I start with an apology, "I don't have anything cold, but I can get you something if-"

"-Ah 'ppreciate that, Grand," she says, "But Ah came to ask about how you're doing... were you cryin'?"

"N- no, I wasn't." I turn and wipe my muzzle. The pressure must have been getting to me. Also, I was not expecting her to ask about me right now, "And what do you mean?"

She sits close next to me and nuzzles, "Ah heard something in town today, so Ah went over to the Apple's place to try to talk again."

I sigh, "You know that never works."

"Ah know," she admits, "we've tried Ah don't know how many times, but it always turns into some kind of argument or competition." I nod and return the nuzzles, but Cinnamon continues, "But what Ah heard was worth another try."

I ask, "What was it?"

"The Apple stallion," she says solemnly, "he went on to the Everlasting Graze the other night."

"What." I'm not sure how to process this.

She nods and continues her ministrations. Cin's quite affectionate today, "She was mourning but still found time to brag, 'We was in the throws of passion as Harmony done intended, and we both e-rupted unlikes we ever did. Coroner done said that was when he done did his last, but his body kept a goin' through the night.'"

My lovely wife has to bite her tongue a bit. I know as well as any other that she can't stand those tall tales.

But after a moment, she resumes, "Ah gotta 'pologize, Grand."

"Huh?" I ask, "For what?"

She answers, "You kept wakin' up and a sayin' you could hear them, but Ah didn't believe you. Ah thought it was just in your mind like some echo from years past or a bad dream. Even if she was 'xaggeratin' 'bout the duration, she still confirmed that there was some sounds a comin' from thataways that night. You were right; Ah was wrong."

I don't know what to say. 'I told you so,' would not be appropriate even if it's truth, but I can also recognize the strength of character it takes to humble oneself. So, I pull her into a hug and give her little kisses on her cheek and neck.

"Mm~" She accepts my affections, "So, you know what this means. Right?"

"Hm?"

She says, "That Granny Smith won't be... you know: gettin' in the way." I've apologized so many times, but she doesn't let me this time, "You've always left me and Juicy satisfied, but," she looks down as we're pressed together in out hug, "It has been a long time since either of us have seen Grand Junior."

I haven't heard that name in a while; and while I try to remember, I follower her eyes down and -oh. Grand Junior. It really has been a while.

She pulls me into a deep, hungry kiss, "Juicy is in the bedroom now." I nod, and Cinnamon looks into my eyes, "The Apples had more than their fair share. Now it's our turn."

Breathlessly, I tell her, "I love you."

She stands and points to the door, "Then get your tail in that bedroom. You've got some flanks to conquer, mister."

Granny Smith's stallion is gone. They won't be rubbing their virility and prowess in my muzzle any more! I can do this.

"Yes, ma'am!"

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Flashback: About Two Years Before Pear Butter Returned To Ponyville With Silly**
**Grand Pear**

I wake in the middle of the night, "Gah! Wha-?" The sounds started up again!

How? That stallion went to the Everlasting Graze years ago. I don’t know if Granny Smith found some other stallion, but this isn't the first time in the past few weeks. It doesn’t last all day and night like her last stallion did; but it’s the same noise -the same mocking noise. I'd recognize it anywhere.

I swear I'll find her new stallion and run him off. I haven't found either of them anywhere yet, but it's just a matter of time, “Ah have to find it; Ah have to stop it.”

Cinnamon is still asleep, but she says, "Ugh~ come back t' bed, Grand."

My other herdmare, Pear Juice, mumbles, "Ah wan' foal dis time."

I'm sorry, my loves. I can’t sleep. All those years of bad sleep, then all the bad sleep was gone -finally gone. Now it all came back; and now my sleep is worse than ever before.

Ever since it started again, they've been pestering, bothering, nagging! Why won’t they help? Why won’t they make those Apples stop? They won’t just let me think. Just leave me alone! I have to get this new stallion to leave that Granny.

“What, did he come back from the Everlasting Graze just for a little tail!? Was eternal paradise not good enough for you? You have to return to the land of the living because the mares there weren’t up to your standards! You had to come back here and rub my muzzle in your stench!?"

"Grand!" Cinnamon is awake and unhappy.

"What!"

"Why're you talkin' to yourself? And there ain't nopony ruttin' over there... or here," she grits her teeth, "Just get over here and Ah'll help you fall asleep. Come back to bed."

"You just don't get it. Do you?" I say. "There's an Apple over there moanin' like a mare of the night. I can hear it!"

"You ain't hearin' nothin'," she says, "Just come back to bed."

"Ah can't! Not with that racket!"

Cinnamon rubs Juice's withers who's shaking some, "Shh~ it's okay, Juicy." Cin looks at me, "We're goin' to visit my siblings tomorrow out to Vanhoover -me and Juicy."

"Wh- what! Where did this come from!?" I demand. "Is this because I had to sell those cottages and didn't tell you?"

"That's a small part of it, Grand, and you know it!" Cinnamon shoots back, "We've been as patient as we can be. We even understood completely about that Apple stallion. But he's gone, and now you've been spiralin' right back to that as if her weren't! And you won't let us help!"

"Ah tell y'u, Ah hears 'em, Cin!"

She replies, "You can barely hear anything, Grand! Been that way for years."

"No, no. Ah know what that sound is." I shake my head and breathe, "And what about Pear Butter?"

"She's 'bout old enough to start her own herd, Grand." Cinnamon answers, "She's old enough to decide if she wants to stay or not."

Oh well. Who needs them! Pear Butter will stay. My daughter, my only foal, my baby. She won’t go. She won’t leave me. She won’t give up on the farm.

Will that Granny Smith ever stop bucking!? Oh, Celestia as my witness…

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Day Before Pear Butter, Bright Mac, and Silly Arrived in Ponyville: 002 Summer CC**
**Grand Pear**

She'll come back. She said she would.

It's been quiet. So blessedly quiet.

If I eat a pear, I can't sell it. If I can't sell it, then I can't help her with that tuition. If I don't eat it, I can't work. If I can't work, I can't sell the pear. But I can't eat it. But I need to eat it.

She'll come back. She said she would.

There was a letter... I think. Could have been an Apple trick.

Juicy, I love you. Cinnamon, I love you. Butter, I love you. I miss them.

She'll come back. She said she would.

She said she would.

I'm so hungry.

At least it's quiet. The air's clean, too.

Please come back, my loves, my baby. Please. She said she would.

Author's Note

Longest single chapter! Hope you now know why I couldn't split this last week; it needed to all be one package. Why are the dramatic parts so difficult to write? I see the scenes, but getting them out is like I'm squeezing water from a rock. I teared at a couple points for this one. I hope the drama here doesn't sour your Thanksgiving weekends any! I didn't get a doodle done. Sorry.

Grand Pear’s Parents: Pear [Trees] Nuts (sire), Pear Shaped (dam), D’Anjou (mother), Ginger Pear (mother)
Grand Pear’s Siblings:
From D’Anjou: Green Anjou, Red Anjou, Sweet Strike, and Pear Tarte “Pie” -all fillies.
From Ginger: Concord Pear, Pear Blossom, and Prickly “Willy” Pear -all fillies.
From Pear "Shay" Shaped: Pear Crisp, Pear Sauce, Candied Pear, and *Cornice Pear.
Grand Pear’s Herd: Cinnamon Pear (lead), Pear Juice
i]Grand Pear’s Foal(s): Pear Butter

That "How're you now" interchange between Grand Pear and Bonny comes from a show called Letterkenny.

There is a brief moment from the show where Cornice Pear and Apple Snacks are shown to be angry at each other when depicting the Apple-Pear feud. Neither family talk about those two anymore; their names are removed from the records, and their names are not spoken.

Cinnamon Pear is depicted with some photographs as being a Pear. I think some fans have made her Pear Butter’s dam. So, to make her a Pear by marriage, I thought she could come from the Candy family of whom Bon Bon and Peppermint Twist are members: Cinnamon Twist.

Several other Pears shown in that episode were relatives visiting as happens with the Apples from time to time.

Doctor Suture and Doctor Horse are two very different types of doctors.

The Shy herd that purchased the cottage which Posey will inherit and later pass on to Fluttershy. Posey is alive and well in "present day," but not yet born at the time of the cottage's purchase from Grand Pear.

The concept of the Everlasting Graze comes from Preunification Anon by Spooples. It is not explained in detail but alludes to being like pony heaven.