But You Surpass Them All

by Pascoite

Rating: everyone
Tags: Big Macintosh, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Drama, Apple Bloom
Length: 8467

Applejack enjoys her family's Mother's Day tradition

"Strong" is definitely a word that describes the Apples, and their family bonds are one of their biggest strengths. But Applejack will need to show her vulnerable side to get the most out of this day.

With her friends' help and a few cracks in her armor, Applejack is going to make this Mother's Day the best one yet.

Featured on Equestria Daily!

Cover art by Conicer

Thanks to Cassius, Filler, Corejo, Uma, Dublio, and Compendium of Steve for reviews/feedback.

Reading by the incomparable obabscribbler.

Published 2012-11-30 07:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-11-30 07:40:01 UTC

But You Surpass Them All

“Whatcha doin’, sis?”

Applejack jumped and whipped her head around, sending her trowel flying against the side of the barn. “Apple Bloom! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She took a few steps through the flowerbed to retrieve it.

“Sorry, AJ,” Apple Bloom said, lowering her head as she backed away.

Applejack tossed the trowel down with her pruners and smiled warmly. “It’s okay. I’m out here tendin’ the garden and pickin’ flowers! Dontcha remember?”

Apple Bloom blinked once, then opened her eyes wide and gasped. “Ohhhhh! It’s already here?” She hopped up and down and donned a blissful smile.

“Yup,” Applejack replied. “Mother’s Day. You wanna help?” In reply, she received a vigorous nod. “Pick out a few o’ these hyacinths. They’re her favorite.”

Apple Bloom leaped between the rows of blossoms. After nosing through several of the deep-green stems, she gravitated toward one particularly showy stalk, graced with a dozen pastel-blue flowers. “This one’s beautiful! It’s the best one of the bunch! Can I pick it?”

Applejack chuckled, giving her head a little shake. “Think now, Apple Bloom. That flower opened a few days ago, so it’ll only be good for a few more.” Bending her head low to make her own choice, she settled on a tall one, its half-opened petals revealing a bright pink that still lay mostly concealed within its waxy buds. “Look at this one. It’ll be freshly opened by this afternoon, it’s a great color and size, and it’ll last another week yet.” She grasped a pair of pruners in her teeth and snipped the stem off neatly at an angle near the ground. “Tell you what—my spare pruners are in the barn. Go get ’em and cut me some hydrangeas from the bush over yonder,” she said, pointing at a blue cascade growing against a dead oak tree. “Those’d fill in the center o’ the vase nicely.”

Swishing her tail eagerly, Apple Bloom rushed into the barn and back out to the shrub. Applejack could see her concentrating as she selected the finest clusters and clipped them off, catching them in a basket.

Applejack bent back down as she spotted a few more flowers to cut. “Glad we had a long winter for a change,” she mused to herself. “Unusual to have hyacinths still bloomin’ in May. Don’t often get ’em for Mother’s Day.” By the time Applejack had amassed a sizable bundle, Apple Bloom had returned with a nearly full basket, her chest puffed out.

“How’d I do?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

“Perfect!” Applejack tossed her own flowers into her sister’s basket. “Now, how about you take the whole lot and go put ’em in some water? You always make great arrangements. Use the good vase that’s in the back o’ the cupboard.” Applejack picked up her pruners and trowel, leading the way back to the barn door to put her tools away.

“You know, you’ve got a real knack for that stuff. Buildin’ and decoratin’ and gettin’ everything just so,” she added, but when she looked behind her, Apple Bloom had already galloped off to the house with her fragrant cargo. “Heh. One o’ these days, you’ll figure it out.” She gave a knowing chuckle, then stowed her gardening implements and came back outside into the grassy meadow surrounding her flowerbeds.

The light breeze hinted at the first warmth of the day that was eroding the slight morning chill, and the green blades beckoned to her with their sparkling adornment of dew. Accepting their invitation, she lay down and closed her eyes, holding her head up high to take in a deep breath of the nectar-scented air, feel the sun’s gentle radiance on her cheeks, and hear the lilting birdsong all around her. Knotted muscles gradually relaxed and breathing slowed. Applejack let out a prolonged sigh, feeling her body sink into the earthy carpet of grass. After what felt like an hour, but was probably only five minutes, she snapped out of her reverie, propping up a hoof to rise and brushing away a stray strand of mane that tickled her nose. She indulged for one last moment, watching a pair of butterflies dance on the wind, then smiled as she trotted off to the house to wash up for her trip to town.

Applejack walked into Ponyville’s bustling marketplace around noon and headed straight for the vegetable stands. As she neared the canvas awnings and wooden carts, Twilight Sparkle caught sight of her and vigorously waved a hoof.

“Hi, Applejack! It’s rare to see you here without a load of apples in tow. Is your wagon broken again?” Twilight frowned as she studied her friend’s face. “I can just teleport it here if you need any help. It’s big, but I think I could do it.”

“Naw, sugarcube,” replied Applejack. “I’m buyin’ today. Thank you kindly for the offer, though.” She swung her nose toward the bouquet cascading over the brim of her saddlebag. “I’ve got a special picnic to arrange today.”

“Oh! Yes, it’s Mother’s Day! This is the first one I’ve spent in Ponyville. Pinkie’s told me about your get-togethers. They sound fun!” Twilight cocked her head and donned a friendly smile.

“Yeah, a typical Apple clan thing.”

“Like my first day in town,” Twilight said, nodding. “How could I forget? You didn’t even know me, and treated me like family.” Her ears pricked straight up, and she leaned in enough to convince Applejack she was about to receive an impromptu hug.

“Um... yeah, well...” She backed off, her toothy grin and knit brow fighting for control of her face. “Now, o’ course we would, sugarcube.”

Twilight’s eyes brightened a bit more as she let out a small gasp. “It’s lunch time! Why don’t you join me at the café?”

After shifting her weight back and forth a few times, Applejack finally answered, “Sure. Why not? We kind o’ do a late-lunch-early-dinner thing, so I could have a small snack, and I’ve got the time.”

Squealing in delight, Twilight led the way to an empty table nearby and helped her friend carefully set her saddlebag and its colorful contents in one of the vacant chairs. She sat down and glanced up at the waitress that had materialized beside her. “Oh. Uh... I’ll have a marigold salad and an iced tea, please.”

“Very good. And for you, ma’am?”

Applejack stared off into the distance and drummed a hoof on the tabletop.

“Ma’am?”

Shaking her head for a moment, Applejack dropped into her seat. “Oh. Sorry. Just give me a small order o’ carrots and a glass o’ water, please.”

“So, like I said, this is my first Mother’s Day outside of Canterlot.” Twilight watched until Applejack’s mind had fully returned to the present. “Of course, I was away at school the last few years as well, but at least in the same city. I sent mom a letter and a gift yesterday to wish her well.”

Applejack nodded as the waitress returned with their drinks, then looked off toward the clouds again, a hind leg fidgeting against her chair.

Clearing her throat, but getting no reaction, Twilight sipped at her tea until her eyes were drawn back to the flowers. “I’ve never met your mother, Applejack,” she said. “Tell me about her.”

Applejack’s face immediately brightened and she sat up straight, a twinkle reigniting in her eye. “I don’t see as much o’ her as I should, but we make the time we have count. We have our Mother’s Day picnic every year. Apple Bloom’s already helped me with the flowers.” An ear flicked once as her head bounced in a silent snicker. “I remember once when Apple Bloom was just a toddler. She saw somethin’ or other on top o’ the fridge that she wanted. Cookie, or toy, or somethin’. Anyhow, I come home from school, and as soon as I walk in the door, I hear a scream. I go runnin’ to see what’s wrong, but before I can get there, I hear mom laughin’ so hard that she’s almost in tears.”

She leaned forward to take a drink, then shook her head as she broke into a broad grin. “Silly thing had stacked up her buildin’ blocks in a chair and made herself some stairs. She was perched at the top, with whatever it was she’d gotten, and mom was down below, laughin’ her head off and reachin’ up to carry her down.”

Twilight had to join in with the infectious chuckling, and even the waitress had to smile as she brought their food. “Already, at that age?”

“Yeah!” Applejack blurted, raising her hooves to her cheeks. “Y’know what else? That thing was hard to take apart!” She failed at her next few attempts to continue her story as her mirth kept her breathless. Finally, she regained her composure enough to speak. “Mom told me to put the blocks away while she put Apple Bloom down for a nap. I figured I’d just give it a good kick and it’d all come crashin’ down. But that thing was strong! I just knocked it over, and it broke into a few big chunks. She had ’em interlocked somehow, and it was like solvin’ a puzzle to get all the blocks separated. Little filly knew what she was doin’!”

Resting her chin on a hoof, Applejack got a far-off, nostalgic look in her eyes as her warm smile lingered. She breathed in deeply and let out a long sigh. “Sometimes I wonder if she’s ever gonna see it. Stubborn thing.” She popped a few carrot slices in her mouth and crunched away.

When she had finished chewing a mouthful of salad, Twilight remarked, “Well, she is an Apple.” A half-lidded eye glared pointedly back at her, almost making her choke on her tea. Twilight coughed and dabbed a napkin at the chin below her mischievous grin. “I’m sorry. She’ll get it. Most ponies take a while to figure out their talents. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried, sugarcube. She’ll be fine. Mom must’ve looked at me the same way when I was that young.” A reflective smile returned to her face as her eyes glittered in the noonday brightness.

“What are you in town to buy? A gift?” Twilight asked before levitating another forkful of golden petals and greens.

“Food. I need the fixin’s for our dinner.” Applejack’s gaze returned to the horizon while her hoof continued tapping against the chair leg.

Her fork pausing in midair, Twilight gaped for a moment before returning a quizzical look. “But... you grow so much on your farm. Why do you need to buy food?”

“Change o’ pace. O’ course we all love a home-grown meal, but it’s nice to have somethin’ different once in a while that we don’t have at the farm. Special occasion’s a good time for that,” replied Applejack as she scooped up the last of her carrots and downed her drink. “Well, I’ve got a lot still to do, and only a few hours left. If you’ll excuse me...” As Applejack pulled a few bits out of her saddlebag to cover the tab, Twilight stuffed the remnants of her salad into her mouth.

“Mmph. Appl—” After some hasty chewing and a pronounced gulp, Twilight levitated a few of her own coins onto the table and rose to follow Applejack. “I’d like to help, if I could.”

“I got it covered. But you’re free to tag along if you like. I don’t mind the company.” Applejack straightened her hat, smiled, and motioned her head toward the market stalls.

Eyeing Applejack’s already-overloaded saddlebags, Twilight floated them up and onto her friend’s back and offered, “I can help you carry things. It doesn’t look like you have much room left.”

“That’d be mighty kind o’ you, sugarcube. First thing I need is some squash.” Applejack led the way to a horseshoe-shaped arrangement of wagons filled to the brim with a colorful array of wares. Produce of various shapes and sizes endured her calculating stare and the judgmental thump of her practiced hoof. After poking and prodding for a good ten minutes, she finally approached the proprietor.

“Radicchio, how much for four zucchini and four summer squash? Oh, and one of those eggplants, too.” She put a hoof on the counter and leaned forward, her eyes narrowed into a conspiratorial squint.

“Eight bits. Says on the sign,” he replied.

Her hoof waved around to waft his words away. “Yeah, yeah. We all know how this works. What’s the real price?”

“Eight bits. Says on the sign,” he repeated, more slowly this time.

“I know for a fact you gave Daisy a better price not three days ago,” said Applejack, a triumphant smile creeping onto her face.

“That was three days ago. Things change.” Deciding he wasn’t going to make any more progress, Radicchio headed back to his stool.

“It’s for my mother,” Applejack growled through gritted teeth.

“Then your mother can come here and pay eight bits,” he barked, plopping down on his seat.

“Um... maybe...” Twilight said as she saw a completely unfamiliar fire smoldering behind her friend’s eyes.

Applejack gaped at him in silence for a moment before she could cough up the first of the words lodged in her throat. “You—Don’t you even—” she shouted, drawing the stares of the nearby townsponies as she searched for a different argument to pursue. “If you’ll recall, I gave you a price cut on corn last year when you needed it!”

Radicchio looked back and forth between Applejack and Twilight a few times before his expression softened. “Five bits. Best I can do.”

“Done,” Applejack said, though her anger didn’t fade away entirely. She left her money on the counter and deposited her choice of produce into Twilight’s saddlebag. Stalking out of the stall, she muttered under her breath, “Of all the nerve! You try and do somepony a favor...”

“It’s alright, Applejack. He was just driving a hard bargain. I don’t think he meant anything by it,” Twilight tried to offer in reassurance, her ears folded back.

“It’s not that. He only comes ’round a couple o’ times a year, so I barely know him. He doesn’t know any better. It’s just—Here we are.” Steering Twilight toward another wagon containing an interesting assortment of small potted plants, Applejack called out to the mare reading a newspaper next to it. “Howdy, Rosemary. How’re the foals doin’?”

Rosemary folded her paper, tucked it under a foreleg, and gave Applejack a friendly wave. “Just as much trouble as always. You look off. What’s wrong?”

Her jaw still set, Applejack shook her head and waved off Rosemary’s concerns. “It’s... nothin’. Don’t worry ’bout it.”

Rosemary nodded, giving a tight-lipped smile, and retrieved a small bag from underneath the cart. “I thought you’d be by today. I’ve got your usuals already picked out. Sweet basil, oregano, thyme, garlic, parsley, and some coarse-ground black pepper. I also threw in some of the portobello mushrooms and spinach from my personal stash,” she added, winking. “I thought they’d blend in well.”

Applejack replied, “That’s a great idea! I’ll have to add that to the recipe when I get back home.” Her eyes rolled upward as she added the suggestion to her mental file, then she gave a curt nod once it had been committed to memory.

“On sale today. Four bits.” As she slumped back against her wagon, Rosemary plucked a leaf from a nearby pot of her namesake herb and chewed on it absentmindedly.

“You’re barely makin’ cost on that, sugarcube. Seven bits,” responded Applejack as she rolled the top of the paper sack down and added it to Twilight’s saddlebag.

“Nope. Four.”

“Wanna make it eight?” Applejack countered, her smile belying her icy stare.

Rosemary shook her head and sighed. “Fine. Seven. You try to earn an honest living, and look what it gets you.”

“Yup. You poor thing,” Applejack quipped, giving Rosemary a hearty clap on the shoulder and pouring a small pile of bits out of her coin pouch. “I’ll see you ’round.”

“Okay. Say hello to the family for me.”

“Will do.” Applejack waved, and then was back out among the crowds.

“Are you still mad?” Twilight asked, rushing to keep up so she could see her friend’s face. “Don’t let it ruin your day.”

Watching her out of the corner of her eye, Applejack forced a smile and quickened her pace. “It’s fine, sugarcube. Here, I need a passel o’ tomatoes.” She stopped at a cart overflowing with vines, and the sight of its owner relaxed her demeanor. Circling around to the back, she grinned and allowed the mare to nuzzle her neck. “Hothouse! Good to see you again! I need a couple dozen o’ your ripest.”

“Picked ’em just this morning, AJ. Making your usual?” Hothouse asked as she patted Applejack on the shoulder.

“Sure am. Mom’s always liked Itailian.”

Hothouse walked over to one corner of her wagon. “Take a couple of these vines. Deep red, and they grow over near my sweet onion patch. They take on a bit of the flavor.”

Smiling and licking her lips, Applejack said, “Ooh, sounds good! How much do I owe you?”

Hothouse closed her eyes and beamed. “For you, AJ? No charge.”

Her ears pricked up as Applejack averted her eyes and smiled shyly. “That’s sweet o’ you, but I can’t let you put yourself out. Ten bits, and I won’t take no for an answer,” she said, already placing a stack of coins on the cash box. “I’ll stop and talk to you later this week, but I gotta be about my business today.” She gathered up her tomatoes and lowered them carefully into Twilight’s pouch.

“I know, AJ. Take care.” They waved goodbye, and Applejack trotted out of the market square, toward the ornate storefronts lining the main street.

“Feeling better?” Twilight asked, trying to keep up. “She was awfully sweet.”

Applejack closed her eyes for a moment, nodded sharply, and slowed to a walk, turning her head to smile at Twilight. “Yeah. I’m fine. Hothouse and Rosemary are farmers like me. We get along ’cause we understand each other. Take this next stop for a change. Ponies here wouldn’t know me from some random stranger. They deal with a customer base that’s a little more... highbrow.”

A bronze bell tinkled as she pushed open the door to Ponyville Beverage, Bread and Cheese and sampled the rich, enticing aroma that billowed out. Inside, shining metal shelves displayed a cornucopia of exotic wares, fancy packaging, ostentatious decoration, and hoof-lettered signs. Twilight followed as Applejack wound her way through the aisles, picking out the few remaining items she needed: a small vial of balsamic vinegar, a little cruet of olive oil, a block of Romaneo cheese, a crusty baguette, and a bottle of sparkling grape juice.

Applejack carried her purchases to the front counter, where a unicorn mare tallied them up in a small ledger. “That comes to thirty-two bits.”

“Let’s see if’n we can do this for twenty-five,” Applejack said, donning her best haggler’s smile.

“If’n,” emphasized the unicorn with a pointed stare, “we could, then perhaps, but I’m afraid our prices are quite firm.”

“Oh,” replied Applejack as she looked away and hung her head. “All—all right, then,” she added in a quiet voice as her ears drooped. She counted out her money, leaving one lonely coin in the bottom of her pouch.

Her jaw set, Twilight glared daggers at the cashier while levitating the last of Applejack’s groceries into her bag. Once they had gotten back outside, she grumbled, “I hope you know she’s not representative of all unicorns.”

“Course not, sugarcube. It takes all types. No harm done.” Applejack turned toward Carousel Boutique. “One last thing to do before I get to fixin’ dinner.” She had barely gotten a few paces before Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy came to a landing in the roadway in front of her.

“Everything’s set!” Dash declared. “It’s going to be perfect!” She jumped back up into a hover and pumped a triumphant hoof. “All the clouds are cleared except one little one that’ll give you a bit of shade. And that light breeze from this morning will be back. Oh, hi there, Twilight!”

Twilight gave a perfunctory smile and a little wave.

“Oh... um...” Fluttershy added, bouncing on her hooves as her eyes brightened. “I remember you once said you liked wren calls, so I got a couple of my wrens to help out. If that’s okay...” She winced as she looked up at Applejack, but broke into a smile when she saw her friend’s reaction. “They’re going to sing for you during your picnic.” She held her head up as high as she dared and beamed at Applejack.

“That’ll be wonderful! Thanks, y’all!” Her eyes teared up as Applejack gave both of the new arrivals a huge smile.

“I was going to get a mockingbird,” Fluttershy said, “so you could have any song you liked. But I’ve never heard you mention anything other than wrens.”

“Oh, no,” Applejack replied, shaking her head emphatically. “It’s never quite the same as the real thing. You see—I was about Apple Bloom’s age when a couple o’ wrens built a nest right outside my window. They woke me up nearly every mornin’. I begged mom to let me shoo ’em away. She told me to leave ’em be—that I’d learn to appreciate ’em someday. They came back and made a new nest every year. When I got a bit older, they made a great alarm clock. It was nice hearin’ that music first thing, year after year, and just in time to wake me for school. Now, I get up before they do, and I miss it. Mom knew. She knew all along.” She grinned at Fluttershy, who shrank away and blushed. “I love hearin’ wren song. It’s somethin’ mom and I shared. She’ll love it, too.”

“Heh. We just wanted to make this day one to remember,” Dash said while rubbing a hoof on the back of her neck. “C’mon, Fluttershy. We shouldn’t hold her up anymore.”

“Thank y’all again. This means a lot,” Applejack said as Rainbow spread her wings.

“Fluttershy,” hissed Rainbow out of the corner of her mouth. “Fluttershy.” She poked a hoof at Fluttershy, who was startled out of her thoughts and looked up as if she’d been caught cheating on a test. “C’mon,” Dash reiterated, jerking her head skyward.

“Oh. Yes. Um... see you later, Applejack. You too, Twilight.” She flashed a feeble smile and flapped her way behind Rainbow Dash.

“That was awfully sweet o’ them,” remarked Applejack as she resumed her journey to Rarity’s shop.

“It sure is. Wow, everypony’s really trying to make this day special for you,” Twilight said as she swept an appreciative gaze all around her. “I can see why you like living here.”

“Well shucks, sugarcube! You sound like it’s all new to you. You’ve been here almost a year,” Applejack responded, giving her companion a sidelong glance.

“I know. It’s just that this place continues to surprise me, like Canterlot used to do.” Twilight hunched her shoulders together and scrunched her face up in a playful smile. “In different ways, of course, but just as much.”

When they arrived at Carousel Boutique moments later, Rarity met them at the door and ushered them in. “Applejack! I trust your day is going according to plan?”

“Yup. Last couple o’ things to wrap up before I head over to meet the family,” she answered, tipping the brim of her hat.

“Excellent! And hello to you as well, Twilight,” Rarity added as she gave her head a little bow. “Superb weather you have for this today, but I suppose we have Rainbow Dash to thank for that,” she said while guiding them to the back room.

Applejack and Twilight set their saddlebags down and took the pair of seats that Rarity indicated. “Everypony’s bein’ so helpful again. This’ll go off without a hitch,” Applejack said. “Thank you so much, Rarity. You’ve got the know-how on this part. Only thing is... I’ll have to owe you. I’m down to my last bit for the week.” She hung her head, rolling her eyes up at Rarity.

“Perish the thought!” Rarity blurted out, holding an indignant hoof to her chest. “Seriously, Applejack, do you think I would charge you for such a thing? Goodness, no! Now, show me what you’ve brought.” She leaned forward, a creative spark igniting in her eyes.

“The flowers there in my saddlebag,” Applejack stated while pointing a hoof at the clump of blossoms. “Apple Bloom helped me cut ’em, and she did the arrangement all by herself,” she added as she closed her eyes and snapped a nod.

Rarity levitated the vase out of the saddlebag and set it on a nearby table. It was made of clear, leaded crystal, with a wide, square bottom that tapered to a narrow neck before flaring into a final bell shape at the top. Rarity held a hoof to her chin as she frowned and traversed her gaze up and down the vase a few times. “My, she does have a talent, doesn’t she? Hm. All in good time...” After tapping a hoof on the floor for a moment, her eyes lit up as she cracked a satisfied smile. “Blue and pink flowers, hm? I suppose the pink ones are you and Apple Bloom, and the blue ones are Big Macintosh?” Getting a nod in return, Rarity continued. “I think this is one of those times when less is more. I’ll just be a minute.” She trotted over to an impressive assortment of colored ribbons on a rack of spools.

“Y’know, Twilight,” Applejack said as she leaned toward her, “Rarity’s the only one of our little group who’s actually met my mom.” She added a punctuating nod.

“Really?” answered Twilight, her brow creased. “I’m the only one who’s particularly new.”

“Well, only Rarity’s lived here long. The rest moved in later.” A nostalgic look came over Applejack’s eyes as she began to chuckle again. “You see, Rarity’s kinda responsible for how I wear my mane and tail.” Seeing Twilight’s astonished gape, Applejack decided that she’d better elaborate. “At about the age when I was allowed to start helpin’ out around the farm, I got it in my head that my mane and tail were gonna keep gettin’ in the way. I asked mom to cut ’em short for me, but she said they were pretty just how they were. Now, pretty’s never meant much to me, so I went off to the barn, got the garden shears, and did the job myself. Mom laughed, and cried a bit too, when she saw, but she said I had to be happy in my own skin, and if that’s what I wanted, then so be it. Next day at school, Rarity—now, we were in different classes, but I saw her on the playground a lot—nearly fainted at the sight. She lectured me up one side and down the other about ‘proper personal grooming’ and a bunch o’ other big words no filly that age should know.”

Twilight’s smile had grown throughout the story, and by now she was working hard at suppressing the urge to giggle. Rarity strolled back over and placed a pair of ribbons next to the vase. “Oh, that old story?” she said with a dismissive wave. “Yes, I let your mother have an earful, too.” As Twilight erupted into laughter, Rarity returned to her work area to select yet another color.

“She told mom that once everything grew back out, I was ‘not to show my face at school again in such a state.’ When they finally did grow long again,” Applejack continued in spurts through her snickering, “Rarity showed me how to tie them up and out of the way. Mom said she liked it better ’cause I had her color, and that I should be proud of it.”

Their grins quickly turned to open-mouthed shock as Rarity’s voice cut across the room with an uncharacteristic choice of language. “Applejack! Get your flank over here!” When Rarity saw the reaction she had gotten, she blushed a deep crimson. “I... uh...” She shook off her embarrassment and stamped a hoof. “I meant that literally! I need to match a ribbon color to your cutie mark. I’ve got good shades of apple green and gold picked out, but I need to compare my reds.”

Applejack obliged, and Rarity held several strands of ribbon up to her side, finally settling on the darkest example. Carrying it over to the previous two, she glued each down to a wider lace backing, and then tied them around the vase’s neck, intertwining all three into a single, complex bow that showed off each hue. “There! I think that’s all that needs to be said: colors of different apple varieties.”

After staring at the accent for a moment, Applejack at last said in a small voice, “It’s just right. It gets to the point with a minimum o’ fuss. Thank you, Rarity.”

Rarity levitated the vase back into Applejack’s saddlebag gingerly, then made a shooing motion toward the door. “Now go on! You still have some cooking to do!”

Once Applejack had snapped back to the present, she nodded, picked up her saddlebag, and led Twilight out the door.

Applejack trotted down the street at an easy gait, but her smile faded when she glanced idly up at the clock showing through a shop’s window. “Runnin’ a mite behind. I was due at Pinkie’s ten minutes ago.”

“It’ll be fine,” Twilight said. “You’ve got me to help you cook.”

Applejack took a deep breath and nodded, allowing her shoulders to slouch a bit. They reached Sugarcube Corner half a block further, only to find the counter unattended. “Pinkie!” Applejack called. “You here?”

“In the back!” sang a lyrical voice from the kitchen. “Come on in!”

Applejack and Twilight walked around the display cases and through the doorway. Pinkie sat there, casting a watchful eye over a full bank of ovens. “Wow! Y’all are busy today!” Applejack remarked.

“Of course, silly filly!” trilled Pinkie. “We’ve got so many orders for Mother’s Day cakes that every oven is going. Except one. I always keep one open for you. I made a Pinkie Promise!” She whipped her head around to see if there were any unauthorized witnesses to her pledge.

“Well, I’ll get right to it, then. Thanks, Pinkie.” Applejack took the produce from Twilight’s pack and began slicing squash. “You can help, if you like, Twilight.” She motioned toward a cutlery block. “Knives are over there. I want to cut up the squash, zucchini, and eggplant, then alternate slices in the casserole dish.” She looked right and left, then said, “Oh, it’s still in my bag.”

Twilight levitated the dish out, setting it on the counter and taking the zucchini. Mere seconds later, she said, “Done! What else can I do?” Still only halfway through her first squash, Applejack gaped at the neatly filed entrée. “Oh. I hope you don’t mind that I used magic,” Twilight said, her head hanging. Getting a wordless head shake in response, she brightened up and levitated the remaining half of Applejack’s squash, popping it apart into precise slices before shuffling them into the mix.

“Now, that’s a neat trick,” Applejack mused. “Let’s see what you can do with the tomatoes. I need ’em smashed!” She punched at the air for emphasis, then grabbed a vine with her mouth and tossed it into the air. It immediately exploded in a shower of red droplets. Wincing from the anticipated impact, Applejack opened one eye cautiously and saw chunks of the fruit hanging in midair before swirling down to collect in a mixing bowl. “Last bit,” she said while pointing at the bag of herbs and wearing an excited grin. A host of aromatic leaves flew out of their individual pouches and shredded themselves over the bowl, followed by a blob of crushed garlic.

“Wow! Is this what it’s like at the library?” Applejack asked as she took a wooden spoon and stirred in the vinegar and oil.

“No. Spike usually won’t let me in the kitchen. He thinks everything should be done the long way.” She drew her eyebrows together into a scowl and made her voice as masculine as possible. “If you take shortcuts, it’ll show up in the flavor! Nothing tastes better than honest effort!” Her concentration waning, she broke into a fit of giggles.

While she poured the bowl’s contents over the casserole, Applejack shook her head and smiled. “He’s good, though. Gotta give him that. Makes me wonder what his cutie mark would be if he could get one.” She scattered the spinach and mushrooms throughout the dish, then balanced the block of cheese on her hoof. “One more for good measure?”

Twilight gave a quick nod and closed her eyes. Soon after, a blanket of precisely measured Romaneo matchsticks floated down to coat the casserole.

“And now we wait,” stated Applejack as she slid the dish into the oven and set the timer for an hour. “Thank you, Twilight. You saved me a lot o’ time.” She leaned back against the counter, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, enjoying the chance to relax for a moment. Around her, a pink blur of activity continually shifted dough to ovens, hot pans to work tables, and ornate confections to boxes, punctuated with the occasional “oops” or “excuse me.”

Applejack drew herself a glass of water from the faucet and drank it down. Taking the opportunity of a break in the action to cross Pinkie’s patrol route, she joined Twilight at an out-of-the-way table. “I remember the first thing I ever cooked for mom. I mixed up some peanut butter, marshmallows, and jellybeans, and threw it in a pan. I got it all lopsided, and way on the edge of the oven. Half was burnt to a crisp, and half was barely melted.” Twilight held a hoof to her face as she snorted. “I carried it in to her and couldn’t have been more proud. She took a bite, and chewed and chewed and chewed.” Laughing enough that she had to speak in fits and starts, Applejack did her best to continue. “I went to get her a drink, and when I got back, it was gone. She told me it was good. When I washed up the pan, I picked a bit of it off and had a taste. Sweet Celestia, was it bad! I figured she must just have a taste for it, though.”

Suddenly, she pitched forward and buried her head in her hooves. When she looked back up, she had tears streaming down her bright-red cheeks and was shaking with peals of laughter. “The next week,” she managed to wedge between her guffaws, “I thought she’d liked it so much that I cooked it for her again! The look on her face!”

A metal cake pan clattered to the floor behind them as Pinkie burst out laughing, and had to hold onto Twilight’s chair to stay upright. Once all three had recovered, Applejack wiped her tears away and added, “Big Mac had a nice little talk with me that night and convinced me to stick with recipe books until I had some experience.”

“Ooh, that gives me an idea!” Pinkie said. “Peanut jelly-mallow... something... Hm.” She held a hoof to her chin and rolled her eyes upward.

The heavenly scent of baked squash had gradually made its presence known through the dominant cake-and-frosting odor, and Twilight closed her eyes as she inhaled deeply. “Mm. That smells great! I can’t wait to try it!”

Pinkie’s thoughtful expression abruptly melted away, her mouth gaping open as she fought for something to say.

“Uh... um... I s’pose that’d be okay,” Applejack stammered through her suddenly weak smile. “The Apple family’s never one to turn away a guest.”

“Ssssst!”

Twilight looked up at Pinkie, who was waving her hoof toward the far corner of the room. Her stern look said in plain language that attendance was not optional.

When Twilight arrived for their private conference, Pinkie put her mouth up to Twilight’s ear. “Yes, Pinkie, but—what’s wrong with that?” commented Twilight. “Huh? No, I don’t... oh. Ohhhhh. Y-you’re right...”

Her face having fallen, Twilight took several hesitant steps back toward Applejack. “Th-thank you for the kind offer, Applejack, but this really is something that ought to be a family affair. I should be getting back to the library anyway. I know she’s not my mother, but I’d like to send a letter to Celestia. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“Well... you’ve already done so much, sugarcube,” Applejack said as she got to her hooves and hugged Twilight.

“I know,” Twilight replied, her eyes cast downward, “but everypony else gave you gifts that were unique. Something that only they could have given you.” A spark flashed in her thoughts as a sly smile stretched across her face. Her horn glowed for a moment, and then she looked back up into her friend’s eyes. “There. That should do it.” She nuzzled Applejack’s neck before heading for the door. “I’ll see you around, AJ!”

“But... what did you do?” asked Applejack as one eyebrow raised.

“You’ll see,” Twilight answered without looking back.

Applejack arrived at her usual spot early, thanks to Twilight’s help. She slouched her way out from under her saddlebags and sat under the broad canopy of an elm. The sun still had an hour or so of arc left to it, but one strategically placed cloud shielded her eyes from its harsh glare. As she took in the familiar view of gently rolling hills spread out before her, two wrens in the branches above chattered a melodic exchange. Drawing a deep breath, she closed her eyes and let her mind go blank until she heard her family’s voices and Winona’s barking approaching.

“Howdy, y’all! Good timin’! I finished a mite early, ’cause Twilight lent me a hoof.” Applejack rose and pricked her ears toward her brother. “You bring everythin’?”

“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh as he lifted the flap to one of his saddlebags and pulled out a stack of dishes. The other emitted an appetizing scent of freshly baked apple tarts. “We followed Granny’s recipe, as usual,” he added, smiling at the old mare. Applejack helped him unfold a large quilt and arrange plates around the edge, then placed the vase of flowers in the center.

“Everypony sends their regards,” Applejack said, wearing an enormous grin on her face. “Rarity decorated the vase, Pinkie let me use the Cakes’ kitchen, Dash gave us the clear sky with a touch o’ shade, and Fluttershy provided the music,” she added, pointing to their feathered entertainers. She creased her brow and scratched a hoof at her head. “Twilight helped cook, but she said she wanted to do somethin’ else special. Didn’t say what.” She retrieved the casserole dish from her saddlebag and removed the cover, sending a cloud of steam skyward, then broke the baguette into several pieces. “Dig in, everypony!”

While Big Mac served up a helping to Apple Bloom, Applejack tore the foil from the top of the bottle of sparkling grape juice. She tugged at the cork a few times, and when she felt it starting to back out on its own, she pointed it straight up and yelled, “Heads up!” Everypony hunched down while grimacing and keeping one eye on the bottle.

With a loud pop, the cork launched impossibly high, streaking well above their shade tree while trailing purple sparks. At the apex of its trajectory, it exploded into a mass of red pieces, each one spouting streams of glowing red light that coalesced into a giant heart, which hung shimmering for several minutes before finally dying out.

Everypony gaped at the spectacle and stomped their applause once it had ended. “Heh! Now, that’s how you pop a cork,” Apple Bloom commented.

Applejack’s gaze remained fixed on the sky long after the last tendrils of red glitter had dissipated. “Thanks, Twi,” she whispered as she blinked away a few impending tears.

“AJ,” Big Mac said to break her trance, “everypony’s been served but you. Here’s your plate.” He wore a gentle smile as he set it down in front of her.

Once she had poured a glass of juice for each of them, Applejack took a big bite of eggplant and swiped a chunk of bread through the tomato sauce. “Now, y’all know the drill. All us youngest-generation ponies gotta share a mom story. You first, Big Mac.”

He pondered his choice for a moment while chewing a mouthful of squash, then his eyes lit up and his ears perked as he settled on a memory. “AJ must’ve been about five years old. She’d been roughhousin’ through the yard all mornin’, but it started rainin’, so she came inside. On about her tenth lap around the couch, she knocked over the lamp. Y’all know the one—the brown ceramic lamp with the blue stripe around it. Anyhow, it hit the floor and she put it back up on the table. She was so scared! After lookin’ it over, she found a chip out o’ the side and started bawlin’ her eyes out.”

Applejack hid her eyes with a foreleg as she blushed, but motioned for him to continue.

“I tried to tell her it was okay, but she ran off to tell mom all about it. Mom could barely understand her ’cause she was shakin’ and cryin’ so hard, but when it was over, mom hugged her and said, ‘Honest little Applejack! You did the right thing, and no harm done. Now, run along and play.’ What AJ didn’t know was that I’d prob’ly knocked that same lamp over a dozen times when I was smaller. The chip was already there, and the whole thing must’ve been glued back together two or three times.”

Applejack gave Big Mac a playful smack on the back of his neck and crossed her hooves. “When were you gonna tell me that? I still feel guilty when I remember it!” She shoved him and shook her head, smiling despite herself. “I s’pose it’s my turn, then. Let’s see...” A hoof tapped a few times on her chin before her eyes danced at the scene playing in her head.

“Mom took me to my first rodeo when I was six. She won a few trophies and a mess o’ ribbons. She also convinced me to enter the junior competition. When I got out in the ring, the bright lights blinded me, and I missed the first few targets in the lasso event. Mom could see me squintin’, so she came out and gave me her hat.”

Reaching up a tentative hoof to her headwear, Applejack ran it along the brim. “I placed fourth, and got my first ever ribbon. I felt so bad, like I’d let mom down. After the competition, I went over to mom to give her the hat back. She said, ‘Why so glum, AJ? Do you realize that every other pony there was at least a year older than you? I’m so proud o’ you! That’s your hat now, AJ. You started out on a new journey today, and it’ll see you through to the end. You keep that until you’re ready to hang it up for good or pass it along to a little cowpoke o’ your own.’ This hat’s seen me through a lot, and it makes me mighty proud to wear it.”

Applejack stared at the centerpiece of flowers for a moment before collecting her thoughts and turning her gaze on her sister. “How about you, Apple Bloom? What story’d you like to tell?”

Apple Bloom looked at the ground with a fretful expression for a moment before smiling and saying, “Um... I’d like to tell one about Granny Smith, ’cause she’s a mom, too.”

“Well now, I think that’d be mighty fine o’ you,” remarked Applejack. “You go on when you’re ready, then.”

“A few years ago, I wanted to help out for my first Applebuck season. I kicked every tree I could, but I got nothin’. Trunk after trunk, until my legs ached, but I never got a single apple. Granny Smith found me in the barn, cryin’, and she took me ’round to the back of the house, where one little tree was growin’. She said, ‘I planted this tree the day you were born. Just like you, it’s grown strong and healthy. It may be small, but it’s ready to do its part. Go ahead. Give it a whack.’ I knew I couldn’t hit a tree that size with a full kick, so I gave it a nice small jolt. There were only four apples on the whole thing, but they all came tumblin’ off. Granny said, ‘Eat one. Sometimes the smallest trees make the sweetest apples.’ And she was right! It was one of the juiciest I’d ever eaten!” Apple Bloom held her head up high as she chewed with renewed vigor at another bite of casserole.

As Applejack finished her meal, she dabbed up the last bits of sauce with the baguette’s end piece and tossed it to Winona, who caught it with practiced ease. Applejack lay back and counted the first few stars able to pierce their way through the waning sunlight. Without averting her gaze from the sky, she took the apple tart that Big Mac offered her and munched on it. Letting her eyes drift closed, she smiled at the sounds filling her ears: chirping crickets, animated conversation, and melodious wren calls.

She finally sat up and eyed the sun’s progress over the horizon. “Y’all had better wrap things up if you’re gonna get home before dark,” she observed. Big Mac nodded his assent, so Applejack helped him pack up all the dishes in his saddlebags. “I’ll handle the quilt and flowers.”

The picnic’s two honorees had remained silent through the entire meal, but Granny Smith finally overcame her emotions enough to speak. “This was right sweet o’ y’all. I ’preciate all the work you put into it, AJ,” she said, giving Applejack a hug. “See you at home.”

“Alright, Granny,” Applejack replied, waving to her family. “Y’all run along, now.”

Apple Bloom stopped in mid-stride and raised an eyebrow. “You’re not comin’ with us?”

“Later,” Big Mac answered. “Sis needs some alone time with mom.” He put a hoof on her shoulder to nudge her forward.

After one final wave, Applejack waited for her dinner guests to disappear over the nearest hilltop. She glanced into the branches overhead. “You too. Thanks, y’all. Head on home to your families.” The pair of wrens nodded and flitted away. As Applejack watched them go, the fading daylight turned to purple dusk, and the first few bats weaved their way through clouds of gnats.

Applejack moved the flowers off the quilt, which she folded and placed in her saddlebag where it lay on the ground. She then took the vase and set it in front of her mother’s headstone, steadying it against any wind with a trio of rocks. Finally, she sat in the grass and removed her hat, holding it against her chest.

“Hi, mom,” she said, letting her eyes trace the contours of the cheery bouquet. “I know I don’t visit as much as I should. But as you can see, we’re still keepin’ up the tradition. Apple Bloom’s gettin’ so big! She’ll get her cutie mark any time now. A little gentle pressure—that’s all I give her, but I can’t do it as well as you did.” She gave a small laugh and ran her hoof over the inscription she had committed to memory so long ago.

“Big Mac still does a great job with the farm. No need to worry ’bout that. Everythin’s runnin’ smoothly, and we’re rakin’ in enough bits to do well for ourselves.” Leaning forward, she closed her eyes and took a deep sniff of the hyacinths. “I keep your flower beds up. They’re still so beautiful. And I still wear my mane and tail long, just they way you liked ’em. Winona’s as crazy as she’s always been, and Granny hasn’t slowed down a bit. We’re happy. We really are. It just feels like there’s always that piece missin’.”

As her resolve finally broke, Applejack wiped a few beads of moisture from her cheeks. “I miss you, mom. I miss—” She shook her head, chuckling and smiling through her tears. “Look at me. A grown mare, and carryin’ on like a foal.” Rubbing her nose and sniffling, she opened her eyes again and brushed at the teardrops on the grass glistening with the rising moon.

“Everypony helped. Same ones I told you ’bout before, but there’s a new one this year. I’ve prob’ly mentioned her to you. Name’s Twilight Sparkle. You’d like her—friendly and practical, if a bit on the obsessive side. She gave us the light show earlier,” Applejack said as she waved a hoof at the sky. More and more stars winked on in the evening light as fireflies answered below. “Heh. Looks like Luna’s givin’ you one, too.”

Applejack pursed her lips for a moment and looked to the side, her ears drooping. “It’s gettin’ late, and I should be goin’ soon. Wish I could visit every day, but you know how the farm goes. Thing is—I don’t wanna turn my back on you and leave. It feels wrong. I don’t ever wanna leave you behind. Y’know, I...” Her face breaking into a grimace, she didn’t bother to wipe her cheeks dry any more. “I have trouble rememberin’ your face now. I’d heard that happens, and I didn’t believe it. But now I-I have to look at photographs sometimes...”

Applejack swallowed hard and tapped her hat against her chest a few times. “I keep you in here. That’s never gonna change. I love you, mom...” Her mouth hung open as she attempted to vocalize a swirl of incoherent thoughts, but in the end, she settled for patting a hoof on the stone marker. She returned her hat to its perch, stood up, sniffled one last time, and slung her saddlebags over her back.

As she finally trudged away in the darkness, she took a deep breath. A small glint returned to her eyes, and she called back over her shoulder. “I didn’t forget about you, dad. It’s only another month ’til Father’s Day.”