Apple Trees and Apple Seeds
Apple Trees and Apple Seeds
Only two apples remained in the tree. A pair of Galas, one a good deal larger than the other, hung heavy on the leafy branch, weighing it down. Even after years of apple-farming, she couldn’t help but marvel at the apple’s beauty. Such a simple fruit, yet with so much life buried inside its fleshy exterior.
As she stood on her hind legs, reaching up to pull the branch down, she counted herself lucky that this particular tree was short enough that she could do this. She gingerly plucked the pair of apples from the tree with her teeth, carefully biting the stems and then pulling back. The branch snapped back, relieved of its load, and she dropped onto all fours again. Holding the red twins in her hooves, she admired how unevenly round they were. Not a perfect sphere or perfectly proportional, but rather with their own bumps and imperfections, spots where the red was darker than it should have been, or lighter. It was these imperfections, these traits, that made them unique. No two apples were the same, and they always tasted just a little bit different, even within the same species.
It was almost like they had their own personalities. This one was sweet and juicy, with just a hint of tangy sour, while that one was rich and full of flavor, but lacked the adventurous bite. But no matter their differences in taste and texture, every apple, regardless of its size, shape, or species, contained something even greater than just a flavorful taste. Potential. She held up the smaller of the two apples. Its flesh was a somewhat yellow-ish red that said it hadn’t quite reached maturity, yet even it held the makings of something great inside it.
With that final thought, she tossed the pair of apples into the baskets slung across her back and headed to the next tree. It was only around 9 o’clock or so, judging by the sun’s position, and she had the rest of the east orchard to pick. Adjusting her hat so that it blocked out the sun, just so, she gazed out over the orchard, enjoying the peaceful silence that early-morning apple-bucking brought with it. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a trio of ponies walking out of the house.
She turned to give them a cheery wave, noticing the barren trees of the east orchard’s other half. Apple Bloom spotted her first, jumping into the air waving her hoof with an enviable amount of energy. Granny Smith and McIntosh both gave her a smile and a nod. She noted the empty sacks tied around McIntosh’s back and the little basket in Granny Smith’s hooves. They were running low on animal feed, and Granny Smith had said something about wanting more flowers for her garden, so that meant they’d probably be gone all day, but at least Applejack would have the whole orchard to herself. She liked it that way.
As they passed through the faded-white wooden archway, Applejack returned to her work and walked up to the next tree.
“Big fella, ain’t ya?” she said, gazing up at the rather large tree. “Well, it don’t matter none. T’ain’t nothin’ that can take more ‘an a few bucks from these babies.” She turned around, so that her hind legs were lined up with the tree’s base, and said, “I’ll give ya three bucks a’fore you give in. Four, if yer tougher ‘an ya look.” Smirking, she leaned forward, raising her hindquarters in preparation. Then, with all her strength, she kicked the tree, causing a dozen or so apples to rain down into her basket. “S’all in the haunches, sugarcube.”
“Phew,” Applejack sighed as she removed her hat and used her foreleg to wipe the sweat from her brow. She squinted, looking up at the sun. It was about two or three in the afternoon now, and she had just finished dumping a cartload of apples into an ever-increasing pile. She panted heavily, fanning herself with her hat and admiring the emptying orchard. The east field, now bereft of a large number of apples, stood in the shadow of the west field. A shadow that was growing larger every hour. Nice and cool.
She had just placed her hat back atop her head, and was picking up her empty baskets, when she felt something nudge her from behind. Turning around, she looked down and saw a tiny pegasus filly. Her orange wings, darker orange than Applejack’s coat and still not fully developed, stuck out oddly. Her feathers, more down than anything, puffed out and made her look twice as wide as she actually was. Unkempt and messy, her mane was a knotted tangle of violet hair, salty sweat, and probably a good bit of dirt. Her lavender eyes, wide and round, and almost too big for her head, stared up at Applejack curiously.
“Is Apple Bloom around?” she asked, leaning around Applejack to look past her towards the house. “We’re supposed to be crusading today. We’re gonna get our cutie marks in door-to-door sales!” she said, suddenly excited. But she was immediately brought back down as she remembered, “But Sweetie Belle flaked, something about helping Rarity or something.” She sighed. “Anyway, is Apple Bloom here?”
“Sorry, sugarcube, she went to Ponyville with Granny Smith and Big Mac to get few odds an’ ends,” Applejack replied, shrugging. “She’ll be back in a few hours or so, I’d say. Yer more ‘an welcome to stay here an’ wait fer her if ya like.” Scootaloo seemed to consider the idea for a moment, so Applejack added, “Or you could always walk all the way back to Ponyville and help her with her shoppin’.”
Scootaloo cringed. “Uhh, that sounds like fun, but I think she would totally want me to wait here for her. I mean, like, I wouldn’t want to miss her and then, like, have to walk back here again, right?”
Applejack smirked. “Whatever suits ya, sugarcube.” As she finished slipping the fruit baskets down her neck and over her shoulders, she said, “Yer welcome to wait in the house, there’s a few slices of apple pie left, and some cider if yer hungry.” She nodded her head towards the east field. “Welp, I best get back to work. Them apples ain’t gonna buck themselves.”
“O–Oh, okay then,” Scootaloo said, casting her eyes down. “I’ll, uhh, go wait inside then, I guess...” She turned around, with her head drooped slightly, and began walking towards the house.
“I hope Big Mac gets back soon,” Applejack said as she walked towards the apple orchard. “I could really use some help clearing out the rest of these apples.” She spoke just loud enough for Scootaloo to hear her.
Scootaloo’s ears perked up; she whipped around. “Oh! Oh, I could help, Applejack.” Applejack’s eyebrow rose. “I mean, uhh, like, if you want me to,” she said, scratching the back of her head, blushing.
“Hmm,” Applejack said, bringing a hoof to her chin and rubbing it back and forth. “I dunno, ya look kinda scrawny to me.” Her eyes moved across Scootaloo’s body, stopping at her eyes. “You sure you can handle two heavy buckets of apples.” Scootaloo nodded quickly. “Apple Bloom usually uses two when she helps me, but she’s a mite bigger ‘an you. I’d understand if ya can only handle the one.”
Scootaloo’s eyes flashed with excitement. “No way! I can totally carry just as many as Apple Bloom, even more in fact.” She zoomed to Applejack’s side and tried to undo the belt that secured the buckets to Applejack’s back. “Plus, I’m really really fast,” she said, looking up at Applejack, her eyes wider than her smile.
Applejack chuckled, “Whoa there, sugarcube. Hold yer horses, lemme get that for ya.” She gently pushed Scootaloo out of the way and unbuckled the belt, letting the buckets slide off her back. As she told the filly to spread her legs out, she tied the wooden buckets to her back and stepped back to see how they looked. She had to suppress a laugh as they were too large for her by a wide margin, and made the poor girl look even smaller than she already was.
Scootaloo struck a pose, holding her head up high and standing on the tips of her hooves. “How do I look? Strong, huh?” She grinned.
Applejack smiled back, tipping her hat. “Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you was a regular cowpony. C’mon now,” she said, turning back to the orchard. “We’re burnin’ daylight just sittin’ here talkin’. We got apples to buck!” She glanced over her shoulder at Scootaloo and winked, then suddenly took off, sprinting towards the trees.
Scootaloo’s hooves practically spun in circles as she kicked up dirt and sped after her. Applejack was ahead by about ten feet or so when she looked back and saw Scootaloo struggling. They were only halfway to the end of the orchard and she was already breathing heavily. Applejack slowed down, but kept her head lowered like she was running the same speed. Slowly, Scootaloo caught up, and then passed her. As she did, Applejack smiled, noting the look of sheer determination on the young filly’s face. Her face was screwed up in concentration, as if she was focusing on some point far in the distance.
As they neared the end of their ‘race’, Applejack sped up again and passed Scootaloo a little before the finish line. They both skidded to a halt and stood panting for a few seconds. In between ragged breaths, Applejack said, “Ya almost had me there for a minute, Scoot.” She grinned. “I bet without them buckets, you woulda beat me.”
Having a second before nearly collapsed to the ground, Scootaloo instantly became excited again and smiled proudly. “Told ya I’m fast.”
“You ain’t kiddin’. I reckon yer the fastest filly in yer class, heck, probably even the whole school,” Applejack said thoughtfully. “Shoot, I bet in a few years you’d even give ol’ RD a run fer her money.” She nudged Scootaloo’s side softly, and she beamed.
“You really think so?”
“Sure do, sugarcube. Would the Element ‘a Honesty lie to ya?”
Scootaloo bit her lip nervously. She kicked at the dirt. “Umm, so...” She trailed off. “Uh, nevermind,” she said, shaking her head.
Applejack eyed her suspiciously, but said nothing. Taking her hat off and running a hoof through her mane, she said, “Anyway, play time’s over, kiddo. This here’s a farm, and we still got plenty ‘a work to do.” She replaced her hat and directed Scootaloo to a nearby tree. “All right, sugarcube. Now, when I buck this here tree, you gotta catch all them apples as they fall. S’alright if ya let a few of ‘em drop, but the more ya bruise the less we can sell.” She moved her so that she was standing a little to the right of the trunk, and out of the way of her hind legs. As she lined up her kick, she looked at Scootaloo and said, tilting her head, “You ready?” She nodded. “Here goes.”
Two dozen trees later and Scootaloo was keeping up surprisingly well. Her size belied her strength. And she was quick too, quicker than even Apple Bloom. They moved from tree to tree, quickly and efficiently, all the while Scootaloo maintained a cheerful disposition that was hidden beneath a look of intense concentration. She darted back and forth, catching countless apples in her baskets. But as they were approaching their twenty-fifth tree, Scootaloo stopped suddenly.
Applejack, curious, turned around. She waited for her to say something. She was biting her lip, and staring at her hooves, but Applejack was patient. She merely smiled a small smile and said nothing.
Eventually, Scootaloo looked up. “Do you think Rainbow Dash likes me?” she asked. Her eyes searched Applejack, looking for something, anything.
“Course she does, sugarcube,” she answered, taking her hat off and using it to block out the sun as she gazed up at the sky. “She may not be the best at showin’ it, but I know she cares about you, in her own way.” Glancing down at her, she winked. “Mark my words.”
Scootaloo’s lips quivered into a weak smile. “Even though I can’t fly?” Her tiny wings, pressed against her sides by the buckets, twitched.
After putting her hat back on, she bent down and unfastened the buckets from Scootaloo’s back and set them aside. Patting Scootaloo’s head softly, she said, “C’mon. I wanna show you somethin’.” Scootaloo looked up expectantly, but she offered no further explanation.
As they rounded the last tree, cresting the grassy knoll, Applejack breathed in deeply, enjoying the scents of thousands of apples. Glancing down at Scootaloo, she said, “Ya see all them trees out there, blowin’ in the wind, swayin’ their branches?” Scootaloo nodded. “Do you know where they all came from?” Again, she nodded. “Where?”
“Well, your family planted all of them, right? Like, they weren’t all here before or anything.”
Applejack chuckled. “I s’pose that’s true, but that ain’t what I meant.” Scootaloo cocked her head to the side. “Nah, I’m talkin’ ‘bout where they came from in the beginning, y’know, way back when.” Scootaloo shrugged. “S’all right, wouldn’t expect a filly yer age to understand right away.” The little filly bristled. “Calm down,” Applejack said, shaking her head bemusedly. Ruffling Scootaloo’s mane, she added, “Lemme explain it to ya.”
She took her hat off and used it to point across the field to an apple tree inside the fence of the Apple’s farm. It was massive, larger than any other tree in the orchard, and positively brimming with apples. “See that tree? That was the first tree ever planted here at Sweet Apple Acres. Thing’s older ‘an Granny Smith, and twice as tenacious. We tried to move it a few times over the years, put it in a more ideal location with more sunlight and whatnot, but it wouldn’t budge. Its roots are buried deeper than a rattlesnake in a rabbit hole. Anyway, point bein’, that tree’s been the source of all our apple seeds long as we had a farm.”
“So, like, all these,” Scootaloo said, gazing around at all the trees, “came from that?” She nodded towards the ancient tree.
“Yer darn right they did,” Applejack replied, grinning. Then, as if struck by a thought, she put a hoof to her chin. “But y’know, there was somethin’ special ‘bout that tree, somethin’ I cain’t quite remember.” Scootaloo looked up at Applejack questioningly, then, after getting no response, down at her hooves. Applejack smirked, then, in mock surprise, said “Wait, I remember now!” Scootaloo’s eyes locked with Applejack’s, and she said, “That tree took nearly ten years to bear fruit for the first time.”
Scootaloo looked taken aback. “What’s so special about that?”
“Well now, I s’pose I better give you a quick lesson on apple trees, sugarcube.” Applejack motioned to a tree to their right with the tilt of her head. “See, them trees usually bear fruit after about six years or so, sometimes it’s a little earlier, and sometimes it’s a little later, but usually no more ‘an eight years at the most.”
“Okay,” Scootaloo replied slowly, still unsure of where Applejack was going with this.
“Ya see, a tree only starts makin’ apples when it’s good an’ ready to. For some trees, that’s a little sooner than others, or a little later, but that tree,” she said, pointing to the tree far off in the distance. “That tree took even longer ‘an usual, and for a good while, they thought it was sick, or that there was somethin’ wrong with it. Somethin’ that made it different from the other trees they’d seen before, and they were partially right. That tree is special, kid. It makes the sweetest, most delicious apples this side ‘a Appleloosa.” She licked her lips, her eyes closed, as if she were enjoying some invisible fruit. Placing her hat back her head, she said, “But y’know, even that tree, special as he is, came from a seed of his own.”
“W–Well, was it some kinda, like, special seed or somthing?” Scootaloo asked, eyes upturned.
Applejack laughed. “Nah, nah, nothin’ like that, sugarcube. It was just a regular ol’ apple seed, nothin’ special ‘bout it. In fact, that little seed didn’t even know it was gonna become a tree.”
“It didn’t know it was gonna be a tree?” Scootaloo said, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Seeds get used fer lotsa things. Birds and other critters eat ‘em sometimes, they get squeezed for oil, or just thrown away, but only some of ‘em become trees. But do you think the seeds know what’s gonna happen to ‘em?”
“Uhh, well I guess not. I mean, they’re just seeds, right?”
“They ain’t just seeds, sugarcube, but you’re right, they don’t know. But y’know what? They don’t need to know right away. Them seeds’ll become whatever they'll become in their own time, and they won’t know what they’ll become until they become it, if that makes any sense.” Scootaloo shook her head slowly. “Heh, well, look at this way. Do ya think Rainbow knew what her cutie mark was gonna be before she got it?”
Scootaloo’s eyes widened in understanding.
“Ah, you’re gettin’ it now, kid,” Applejack laughed. “See, s’okay to not know who you are right now. You got yer whole life ahead ‘a ya to figure that out, and ya got yer friends to help ya along too.” She reached down and mussed up Scootaloo’s mane, giving her a wide smile. “Yer cutie mark’ll show up when it’s good ‘an ready, sugarcube. And yer wings,” she tickled Scootaloo’s downy wings, causing her to squirm and giggle, “well, less jus’ say Rainbow wasn’t half the flyer she is now when she was twice yer age.”
Applejack’s cheeks tugged into a half-smirk as she grinned at Scootaloo. The filly’s smile grew wide as she looked up at Applejack. “I–I...” she trailed off as she attempted to say something, her eyes watering.
Applejack nodded knowingly. “No need, kiddo. I’m just tellin’ you what my ma told me when I was yer age. Now c’mon,” she said, nudging Scootaloo, her lips now trembling. “We’ve worked hard enough for today, let’s head back to the farm and wait for Apple Bloom and the others ta get back.” She wrapped her hoof around Scootaloo and pulled her close, whispering into her ear, “Hop on my back, sugarcube. I’ve got an idea.”
Applejack bent down to her knees allowing Scootaloo to awkwardly clamber her way on to Applejack’s back, wiping away the tears forming in her eyes and smiling. She wrapped her hooves around the older pony’s neck and said, “Okay, I’m ready.”
Applejack reached up, removed her hat, and placed it on Scootaloo’s head. The hat slid down over her eyes, so she reached up and pushed it back so that it sat further back on her head, still far too large to fit. “Hold on ta that for me wouldya? Wouldn’t want it blowin’ away.”
Scootaloo smiled childishly, laughing. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe.”
“All right, hold on tight, kid.”
Tensing her muscles, Applejack leaned forward, then shot off into the orchard. She galloped as hard as she could, weaving in and out of trees, kicking up leaves and dirt as she raced towards the old tree near the barn. Scootaloo was wrapped tightly around her neck, a huge smile spread across her face as she bounced up and down with Applejack’s body.
If she closed her eyes, and flapped her tiny wings, it almost felt like she was flying, and that thought made her smile grow even larger. As they neared the barn, Applejack called out, “Don’t let go now!” and without so much as a warning she jumped clear over the white double fence surrounding their property. For a brief moment, Scootaloo didn’t even have to pretend. She really was flying. Applejack’s hat came loose from her head and nearly flew away, but in a heart-stopping moment she let go of Applejack’s neck and reached up to grab the hat. Then, a moment later, she felt Applejack disappear from beneath her and suddenly she was falling, her eyes still fixated on the hat.
Realizing that a weight had been lifted from her back, Applejack skidded to a halt and turned around in time to see Scootaloo floating there, a grin on her face and the hat in her hooves. She was only a few feet in the air, and descending rapidly, but she was actually keeping herself from falling. Her tiny wings buzzed as she struggled to keep herself aloft, but eventually gravity won out and she landed ungracefully on the ground in an orange and violet heap. And Applejack’s hat, now covered in dust and sand, lay crushed beneath her.
Scootaloo rolled over, moaning. “Ugh, that hurt,” she groaned. “Not my best landing, heh.” Applejack laughed as she helped her to her hooves and dusted her off. As soon as she was clean, she became excited again, shouting, “Did you see that, Applejack? I was flying! I mean, like, it wasn’t for very long, but I flew!”
Applejack patted her on the back, giving her a warm smile, and said, “I sure did. That was mighty impressive, kid. You even managed to save my hat.” She chuckled. “Y’know what? Why don’t ya keep the hat for awhile,” she said, placing the hat back on Scootaloo’s head. “Looks good on ya.”
Scootaloo grinned. “Bet I look like a real cowpony now, huh?”
“Heheh, sure do, sugarcube. A regular Ol’ West gunslinger,” Applejack said.
As she looked up at Applejack, still smiling, Scootaloo felt tears begin to well in her eyes and her lip quivered. She leapt forward and wrapped her hooves around Applejack’s neck, pulling her head down. Doing her best to not cry, she said, “Thanks, Applejack. Thanks for everything.”
Applejack reached out and hugged Scootaloo back, pulling her in tightly. “It was nothin’, sugarcube. Just two ponies doin’ some farm work is all.”
As they pulled away from the hug, Scootaloo messily wiped away the tears streaming down her face and then reached up and took the hat off, handing it back to Applejack. “But, I think I’ll let you keep your hat.” She giggled. “It’s a little too big for me.”
Applejack took the hat back and sat it on her head. “You’ll grow into it someday, kid.”
Scootaloo shrugged. “Maybe, but—”
“Scootaloo!”
Scootaloo turned around and Applejack looked up to see Apple Bloom galloping up the path to their barn, Granny Smith and McIntosh a good distance behind her.
“Oh, hey, Apple Bloom, what’s up?”
Apple Bloom, her back loaded with bags, was panting by the time she reached Scootaloo. “I thought y’all were in town, but I didn’t see you anywhere,” she said.
“Yeah, I came here to find you, actually,” Scootaloo replied.
“Oh man, I’m sorry, Scootaloo. If I’da known, I woulda come back earlier so we coulda done some crusadin’.” She shrugged apologetically.
“Nah, it’s cool,” Scootaloo said. She glanced back at Applejack, and smiled at her. “I don’t really feel like crusading today anyway.”
Applejack smiled back at her, then said, “Why don’t you girls run along now and go play. I’ll help Granny Smith and Big Mac with the rest of the shoppin’.”
The two fillies nodded, then glanced at each other excitedly before Apple Bloom dropped her bags and they ran off towards their clubhouse. Applejack watched them go, waiting until they disappeared into the trees before whispering under her breath, “You’re gonna go far, kid.”
