Amber Grass Hills

Monday, August the 5th

Sun rises, kin awaken, things stay the same, and ponies stay happy. Morning, one glorious morning protrudes from them amber grass hills. And with the star driven so blessedly by the holy one so do we arise. I speak of course of mah early mornin’ tides of woe, but believe it or not, them were tears of joy. We don’t wake to the rooster no more; it’d flown off somewhere off east, feather brain. This’ll be mah first day mindin’ the land all by myself.

So I fetch mahself a breakfast an chew on it in the sweet morn’s shine. Jus’ a couple of apple fritters from last eve’s meal.

I am to work today, earn mah keep. I set my eyes on the task at hoof, I’m to propagate our largest apple tree. His name is Amis, after my great great great grandfather. This was altogether something new to me but warmed ma heart that Granny Smith would le’ me have a go. I leave the Apple Family home and go across to the fixin’ shed. I pull apart the great heavy doors and take a look inside. The blessin’ of sunshine comes through the holy roof. I think that maybe one day they figure I’ll fix that. I beg to differ; I’ve never been friendly with heights. I poke around for my tool belt, it’s snugly hidden somewhere in the shed. I search low, not high, never high, till I see somethin with my name written on it.

Well Gee whiz, wouldn’t you know it. It was right where I left it. I pick it up and wrap it round me; it was time to go to work.

I trot through them emerald fields jus cause I love doin’ it so much. I glide through those dewy blades that run frequent through the everglades till I stop stupefied by the tree name after mah Great Grandpappy. Umm Give or take a few greats, jus’ ta be safe. I am fond of this giant, who sits quiet out here alone. I love ‘im like a brother, lord didn’t see fit to bless me with another stallion sibling within a hundred miles, oh well, guess you can’t pick your family. Applejack had left a step ladder for me to use, lucky though. I’d forgotten to bring the darned thing. Then I think, Well heck, if I wanted to find the ladder it’d be out here. I’d be lookin’ fur hours. I gather up the ladder and prop it up against the trunk.

“Howdy thar’ old boy” I cheer.

He bows politely as I climb up the steps. I’d been told this propagating was to be a proclivity from now on. It was meant to help carry on the life of the tree; lord knows I loved the tree, like a brother. I pat a lazy hoof of mine on the many pockets of mah tool belt. I feel across a toothed blade and fin’ the handle at last. I go to work on the first cut. I was warned about damage I could do, I had to be careful. I begin the sawing underneath, something Applejack tol’ me about. Her an’ her fancy thinkin’ talk. I do this as not to hurt Amis. I finish this wedge and move my saw up the branch.

Not before too long ah’ve made this cut too. Good ol’ Amis, being a gentle apple tree, doffs his hat to me as ah sail of with one of his arms. I can nearly hear ‘im crying as I leave him on his lonesome. I walk a trifle then inspect the ground.

“Eeyup” I say, starting a hole in the ground.

It’s got to be at least five hooves deep so the roots can grow. I don’t break a single sweat and in record time my hole is dug. I plant the little Amis in the softest land I could care to find and pack in the loose soil at his base. I take a step back, admirin’ my work.

I smile lovingly at the new arrival, a baby apple sapling to make fur a bountiful harvest when he’s all grown up. I gaze at Amis senior and wipe the wet off my brow; I reset the ladder and begin another cut.

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By the time I am done my old friend looks bare. In the now sombre night I watch him go to sleep. Sis is still gone and I am in charge. Harvest is in but a few days.

I arrive back in the Apple Family home, Granny fumes at me for missin’ lunch. She says “a stallion needs to be keepin’ themselves going”, I argue “I think I’m done growin’!” I take mah place at the table, the head of the table. Supper smells something wonderful, I let my temperature cool and smile politely at the pot of good food. Carrots an’ cabbage and Heart’s Warming stuffin’ too, what more could a stallion ask for? I pig down the good eats and nod at my loving grandma before making for mah bed.

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Tuesday, August the 6th

What do you know; the shining white disk bursts from them amber grass hills again. No rooster yet, we had a chick now at least, Applebloom’d fetched ‘em while I was out with ol’ Amis. I get myself breakfast, though there was no need. Applebloom, my sweet tiny sis, had prepped us some porridge. I chew it while smiling and I give Bloom a neat kiss on the cheek before setting back out for the day’s work. Hmm Tuesday, what did I do on Tuesday? Ah that’s right; I was feedin’ the pigs an’ rabbits out in the fields. I go back to the shed across the way from the Apple Family home and take look. I fin’ the rusty faucet and screw the tap. I rinse my hooves till I can’t feel them in the freezing gush then screw the tap shut.

I follow the noise of oinks an’… What noise do rabbits make again? Twitchin’ maybe… Ah also follow the smell, Ooh wee I’d be darned if that smell couldn’t peel the wings off of a Pegasus. Woo. I unlock the door to the feed store and grab me a sack full o’ slurry. I hop over the fence leadin’ to the sty and fill the troughs with the even fouler smelling mulch from inside the sack. The pigs are as happy as themselves in sh… I mean muck. They munch at it as if it were sweet sweet potato pie. The rabbits make that noise they make and scurry about their run. I go back to where I keep the feed and fetch a sack full of carrots. To make ends meet we Apples have to run a… petting zoo. I leap the fence to the pen of rabbits with their cute fluffy tails and frilly tufty ears and let the carrots roll loose onto the ground.

I nearly forgot the cows again. I grab the special dietary stuff they’re on an’ bolt over to their meadow. They is mighty scary them cows, they must’ve been plannin’ something. I haul the goodness over the top fence post and fill the troughs with feed.

It’s time for the main event of today. The southernmost field is to be ploughed and cultivated for new saplings arriving from our friends in Manehatton. Our high flying cousins were sending oranges to our little corner of heaven. Havin’ another fruit crop may have been a poor choice, but I still don’t make any of the BIG decisions.

I am provided with a team two-dozen strong to tackle the hardy ground. I grip an ear of corn in my lips, I feel more like I’m in-charge when I do this, an’ give the workers their orders. Each set of hooves is attached to a plough and they drag the scoop through the land. Each worker does their day’s pay before returning to me when the work is done. Long fresh furrows lay in the soil; it has the finest tilf I’d ever felt. I shake the hoof of every last one they did such a good job.

I wave them as they leave and I return to the Apple Family home. Granny Smith is blowing steam over my missin’ lunch a second day. I settle down at the table and dig into a platter of loaded potato skins. Delish!

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Ol’ Granny Smith smacks me across the back of my hooves before I leave for bed. She sits me back down and scowls at me. What was I supposed to have done? Turns out it was time for praying, I press my hooves together and talk away in my head.

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Oh sisters hear me pray this evening. I want my little sister to be treated nice at school; I want my other sister to be back when she promised. An’ most importantly, whichever one of ya’ll is listening, please don’t make me muck out the animals tomorrow

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A bible smashes onto the table. “Mind what you’re saying to them girls up there, they take things awful literal” she warns me. I nod politely and make for my bed. Finally some sleep.

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Wednesday, August the 7th

Burning, burning, something is burning. The blessed morning rises all around, the sun seeps from behind them amber grass hills. I smell a scent of something burning down in the kitchen. I find lil’ Bloom at the stove, she must’ve been trying to cook somethin’. I grab a towel and wet it under the sink gush before smacking the fire to death with it. Lil’ bloom stands a little awkward, she looks ashamed. I wrap my hoof over her and tell her to “pay no mind to this, sa’ll jus’ learning”. I leave, no breakfast fillin’ mah tummy. I hear my stomach growling menacingly at me. It is best I don’t eat when I do this certain chore. I’m not so dumb I don’t know how things work. Cows, pigs, chickens, rabbits, sheep, eat things and then out the other end they. I don’t really need to go into detail. I clip my hoof on the muckin’ shed as I wonder in. I didn’t have to clear the fields, that’d be impossible. I was Jus’ to clear the bedding an’ such where the critters sleep. I fetch me a shovel and clothes peg an all and set off to the festering pig sty. We have seven pigs in all, one large matriarch and her little ‘uns. The mum was Mildred, then we had Sow, Martin, David, Oscar, Carla and the runt of the litter; Pork-Chop. An’ each of the seven pens wanted clearing of faecal leavings, delightful. I take a quick detour back to the house and slip on mah galoshes ‘for stomping off toward the sty once more.

Wee Doggy! What stench would jus’ peel the stripes right off of a zebra’s back. I poke mah nose over each pen before gettin’ in and shifting the mess out. I fetch a barrow from the fixin’ shed and transfer the load into it. We have a ginormous manure pile, it must’ve been taller than our house. I tip the stuff out and go check in the lil’ hutches where the rabbits are a bitin’ and a playin’. We have but three hutches, and near enough 16 bunnies all in all. I open the first door an’ scoop the straw from out of it. I risk a sniff, a mistake I realise immediately. I finish clearing the other hutches before placin’ a small saucer of little strawberry flavoured flakes I know they enjoy.

I’m done with the dirty task. I return to the Apple Family Home. I see AppleJack’s bags all set out at the door. There is three of em’. I often state how many of something there is, something to do with what the head shrink said to me. Well whatever was wrong me I was the stallion of the house and I was to carry the bags, the three bags. I take one in each fore hoof and carry the latter in my mouth, not the cleverest of solutions, but I was never the cleverest of ponies. I take the bags in but do not hear the shrieking tone of my older lil’s sister. I can’t see hoof or haunch of mah Grandmammy either. Dang, what in the world was going on here?

I later find out they were gone to market, selling a few apple batches close to going off. I sit at the end of the table and cup my head in mah hooves. I was head of the family, but right now I was a head without a body. Lil’ Bloom flicks my earlobe. I moan at her and she complains on the account of her starving. I look dotingly at her an say “I’ll see whut ah can rustle up lil missy”.

She seems happy, for now at least. I put a pot of soup on the stove and let it simmer. Bloom’s gettin’ impatient, pacin’ this way an’ that. I keep on checking the heat of the broth till its jus’ right and I pour it into some serving bowls. Well I’ll be, I actually cooked somin’. An’ to top off the evening, I don’t have to do the dishes. Today was a good day.

I kiss bloom on the forelock as I wish her good night. Ah sing a little poem our momma taught us and go back to my own bed. It was only 5pm but the harvest was after tomorrow, no way was I being a sleepy old crone for that.

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Thursday, August 8th

Ah stretch this mornin’, must of pulled something shiftin’ all the, all the droppin’s and such. I am held in a warm embrace also. My, oh my how beautiful my lil’ sis looks with the sun peeking over them amber grass hills behind her. She is positively glowin’. I push her away and we exchange some playful banter before I make for the front door and what today will bring.

Consarn my luck, I went to bed so early I didn’t notice this downpour. The land is water-logged. Bad news if you’re itchin’ to grow something. I go to where the grass meets the gravel and stamp my hoof. Jus’ as I thought, completely full o’ water. It was up to me today to visit our Manehatton cousins to see first-hand the oranges to be shipped. I’d been faxed a train ticket by my much more organised than me sister. I go back to the house and trip over my adoring lil’s sister. I curse then shut myself up. I try to plea “pay no attention to what ah jus’ said. It’s not somethin’ I want you repeating”. I look at her tears eyes; I must’ve hurt her, what kind of a clumsy oaf am I? I lean down on bended knee and place my hoof all comfortin’ like on her side.

“You want somin’ to eat lil’ slice?”

I can’t remember what she said; I assume she cheered up a mite. I remember my own empty tummy and prepare the mixture for some porridge. I place the two bowls under the heat and wait a tide before getting’ ‘em out and setting them upon the table. She takes some little spoonfuls an’ I stuff my head into the bowl. I sometimes feel I was meant to be born a pig or perhaps a dog on account I love diggin’ holes. Maybe I could sniff for them truffles the fancy places pay big bits for, might be a preferable career choice. I finish my portion and gallop away, time’s a wasting. Lil’ Bloom grasps at my tail jus’ before I leave and hoofs me Pa’s old waistcoat. Looking professional’s got a make me more favourable with the gentile folks.

I get to the station; I hear the loud whistling of the train coming to the platform. The doors slide apart and I board. I hate how ponies take one look at me an’ think I’m gonna rob ‘em. I ain’t no crafty devil Zebra, they aint go not reason to doubt me or mah intentions. I take my seat in coach and watch the world go by out of the window.

Ah Manehatton, home to the Friendly Orange Company, and home to my disapproving cousins. I’ve been stuck in a train for hours and hours on end. I leave the train, pass the rows of shying faces, and find my youngest cousin.

“Miss Babs Seed” I cheer.

She curtsies and waves a hoof in little circles for me to follow her. I’ve always had a few odd questions swimmin’ around mah head about my citrus growin’ kin. Ah keep them to mahself. Something the doctor was sayin’ about last week. Low confidence, fear of commitment, nervous gas… I really didn’t want to put myself in the public eye. No, no more feuding, I’ll sort this war between our families.

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I’m at the table now, a great long one, stretching further than the best yodeller could reach with their shrill tones. I am presented with a haul of good lookin’ food. I don’t know where to start. I poke my fork into the creamy salad till I hear one of the landed gentry scoffing at my stupidity. I must have been usin’ the wrong fork, why do we need three? I hang my hoof over the middle fork, more scoffs, I move my hoof again. I get a few of my posh cousins askin’ some questions, questions I wasn’t entirely comfortable with answering. All ah remember before the copious grapefruit wine clouded my mind was that I was shier than usual. One compliments my attire; I feel it’s of pity not actual admiration.

The adversity of the evening gets more and more severe. All the time ahm there I know I should be back at the farm, doing my duties, earnin’ mah keep. I hate this blasted frivolity so much! “I have responsibilities back at the ACRES! Now I have come to this pointless dinner, as some sort of hoof extension of friendship but now ah see it’s just a big waste of time!” I didn’t find out I said this till I see the shocked expressions on the Orange Family muzzles. We agree the terms and I leave.

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