Sunflowers

The loud ball of orange and brown continued to bounce on my back through the covers of the bed.

“DADDY, DADDY, DADDY, DADDY! We hafta eat breakfast sometimes, too!”

I rolled over, my sleepy mumbles dying behind the sheets. The noise proceeded to jump on my ribs, and I decided that I had finally woken up.

Little Petal was standing proudly on the bed, her pink eyes frowning, “Y’know, you forgot at cel’brate Clytie’s Mark Day, yesterday, Daddy. He’s disappointed.”

Oh Celestia, my youngest foal was using disapproving big words towards me so early in the morning. I was not ready for this. She still stood on the bed, watching me carefully.

The cold air of the open door bit my fur and made me sluggish. The room still smelled as musty and wooden as the day my brother and I built it, and the morning sun made the dust dance through the windowpane. I shook my mane and reached for my usual woven sunhat, yawning. I had to think quickly with my daughter.

“Well, th’n, Ah think we shou’d cel’brate today ‘n town, so y’all can c’me wit me on mah erren’s.”

Petal’s little orange cheeks grew up into a smile, and her eyes gleamed. The little filly began to jump again, her happiness seemingly more for going outside than to celebrate Clytie’s Cutie Mark.

“I’ll go and tell him!” She leaped down off the bed and scampered into the hallway, taking her laughter with her. At her leave, I was suddenly very tired again. As if the only energy keeping me awake was her own. I laid my lazy self back on the bedding, and noticed for the first time the absence of my wife. Flora was indeed an early riser for a pregnant mare.

I was already dedicated to my feet, thanks to Petal, so I decided to find where they all were so early. The wagon wasn’t ready and the new crops weren’t cut; I needed a head start from staying up late.

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Petal’s bed was made and properly cleaned, but Clytie’s was a disaster. As if he had been tossing and turning all night and sleeping with a hurricane. The pillow was on the ground and the blankets were choking themselves in their own folds. That was very different.

I moved on, my hooves carrying me down the hallway and into a lively dining room where Clytie was munching on several seeds at the table. Petal was enthralling him with today’s schedule, her body propelling her off the ground and then some.

I walked around to the storage cabinets, barely listening to their conversation, and opened one of the wooden doors. A small gray-brown mouse was chewing away at a few sunflower seeds that were left out in the open. Again.

Sighing, I shooed him away back into a little hole in the wall, glad that Petal didn’t find him first and want another pet. Last time was all we needed, thank you.

I took out two bowls of seeds with cream, and placed the larger bowl down for Petal on the table. Mine I carried outside in a drowsy haze, searching for the flower cart and my wife.

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Down on the lower parts of the hill were slopes of rolling fog. The early morning sun shone through and made the misty specter opaque, saturated with light. The low copse of trees had boughs of golden-lit apples and water, the condensation dripping off every leaf.

Dew was clinging to the bark, grass, and eaves of the house, exactly where it shouldn’t have been.
There weren’t supposed to be rainstorms during the peak of summer. It should have been impossible for it to happen during the night, especially when Celestia had been planning and warning us all about a drought that would happen up until a week after the Summer Solstice.

Had Princess Luna not heard about the plans?

Nah, the Royal Sisters might’ve had a misunderstanding, I shook away the thought as I rounded the corner, drawing close to the old shed out back. But wouldn’t they have spoke with her about it while she mandated the rain?

My cart outside was sodden and the crops were drizzled. The shed, wooden and tall, was starting to grow ivy over the lower parts of the walls. The door to the shed itself was opened and contained a darkened crevasse leading to my precious mare, Flora. She seemed undaunted by last night’s… Inconveniences, and was dutifully taking out a package of dried sunflower petals. Whatever we have left over from both the harvest and the sales, we either put in storage, or in the ground. For storage, it’s an eating factor, and the new crop always comes ‘round with a fresh batch of seeds and blooms for us and our customers.

She was probably getting them for Petal, seeing as it grew to be her favourite when she was younger and beginning to eat solid foods. And it’s always the blooms that’re best for a growing baby.

I put the wooden bowl of seeds and cream on the ground near the closest tree to our porch, and trotted up to her from behind. Her ears flicked backwards, but she kept sorting through the storage, as if she never noticed me. I playfully lay my head on her shoulder, my sunhat scrunching up harmlessly against her neck. She smelled of the warmth of the shed, but spiced with a calming pollen scent that suited her.

“Oh?” Flora turned and lifted my hat with her mouth, and then placed it on the shelf gently.

“I didn’t hear you come in, dear. I thought you were Clytie, trying to sneak up on me again!” She kissed the top of my green mane and nuzzled me affectionately. I gave a deep sigh, and we both stayed like that for a minute or two. Now Flora did seem bothered by last night, once I’d gotten close… She held onto me as if I was liable to fly away from her in an unexpected rage, and she tried her best to hide it. We now had, after all, a mutual fear that last night would not be the last time we hear from Glora and her gang.

Best not to dwell on the White Diamond Dog in the room.

“Werh you getten’ dos peat’ls fur Peat’l?”

My wife released my head from the half-embrace and gave a happy sigh.

“Yes, but I figured that she’d be hyperactive if I gave her too much. She’s already bouncing off the walls, and for Celestia-knows-what reason!”

She laughed and smiled, dispelling my fears of her lingering emotions.

“Well Ah’m gonna be takin’ da kids to town fur Clyteh’s cel’bration.” I straightened my neck and looked into her eyes, “You wanna be a-comin’ wif us?”

Flora’s breath circled the air for a second while she said that, yes, she would love to come with us. I then nuzzled her cheek, trying too keep her happy, at least, and aimed to take my hat from it’s perch.

“Ah’ll be settin’ up teh crops, ‘en. You shou’d go an’ ’ave breakfust with da kids, Flora.” She smiled and took the petals from where they were, and I followed her back to the house.

And after parting with her at the doorway back at our abode, I made my shuffling way back to the cart to prepare. It was tedious work to use simple cloth to get the rainwater out for the ride, but I managed to get it, at least, slightly damp.

Filling it with sunflowers was easy enough, and what with them all laying down in the fashion that they were, it seemed as if the inside of the cart were a bed lined with bright yellow and brown pillows.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

The next thing I saw was my daughter rolling around in the stems, her coat messed with dirt from the uncleaned root systems the plants still had. I wanted so badly to scold her, but her bright pink eyes were too elated to even let me speak. I stroked her mane instead, and went to find Clytie in the house.

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The door was opened to let the drowsy morning sun float through, and it was pretty much airy in the house. Not cold, but a sure waker-upper for tired ponies. Clytie wasn’t where he was before, so I assumed that he was either brushing his teeth again or was in his bedroom.

I didn’t expect him to be in the bedroom with Flora.

He was clearly very distressed, almost to point of anger, and he was stomping around the bed, growling. Flora was, again, busying herself with finding a hat to wear for the day out. She held an impassive face and glanced at me, trying to cue me into my leave. This was awkward for both of us; Clytie had never acted out so forcefully before! I simply shut the door and went to prepare with Petal, hoping to not be the cause of Clytie’s outburst.

I met her at the doorway, coat dirty, and little namesake tangled in her mane.

“Is Clytie yelling at Mommy again?”