Amber Grass Hills

Harvest:

I put down mah journal after readin’ it in the tender embrace of my train seat.

The sunlight gleams from betwixt them amber grass hills. I’m not so pleased to see ‘em this very mornin’. I luckily awaken just before the PonyVille stop. Applejack’s waiting there for me, she don’t look best pleased either.

“AppleJack?”

That’s the most I said throughout the whole morning. She drags me back to the acres and shows me the orchard pickin’ team. She confides in me that this harvest has to be done in a day. No pressure then. I think I mentioned somethin’ about never needing a team before; she assures me ah need ‘em.

I’m in charge of the collectin’ team coz sis’s got the buckin’ taken care of. We have streamlined our operation, we aint so small scale like we used to be. There are hundreds of carts to carry the thousands of baskets to be filled by the eighty odd contractors. I jack up one of the 243 carts and spin a wheel, I always did this check. I press down all mah weight onto the bottom of a couple of the 5,624 baskets. Ah go to a bell that’s been wheeled out, already hearin’ the sweet commotion of buckin’ in motion. Time to send the 85 willing, I might add, handsomely paid farm hands out to do their duty. As always it fell to me to chime the bell to start this part of our production line. We had a load of carts spare, 158 to be exact. Although not all our temps would be pullin’ a cart, I wanted a ratio of one puller to three collectors.

Now, let’s see…

{20 X3=60 + 20= 80, 21 X3=63 + 21=84}

Damn.

One left over. They leave in their smaller contingents off after the buckin’ team. Now on a different matter I was concerned that we didn’t have enough baskets. We was harvesting the southern orchard at first, a plot 480 apple tree’s strong. Hmm, each tree grows a crop normally of 15-26 apples, so as a generalisation; 20.5 apples per tree.

So…

That’d be 9840 apples in total. But that’s a lil’ spurious.

Then we need to turn over the crop in the eastern orchard. This was our largest plot by far. It spanned seven acres, seven acres of apples. So, it havin’ 1,280 trees upon it makes…

Ummm, now I might need a fresh pair of eyes to look at this.

Umm on another note the trees here were awful fertile, each producin’ a crop of 30-45 apples per tree. So as a nice easy average that’d be 37.5 apples per tree. I speak in numbers but a half an apple is less use than one hoof mitten.

It takes some serious number crunching, most of which I used an abacus for, but I soon arrived at a guestimate for the total toll of apples.

Forty eight thousan’, that’s a big ask. On top of the pickin’s from the southern orchard that’s a grand total of, huh, close to 60,000.

Each basket carries a volume of 48 apples ‘fore it starts spilling over. So we have 5,624 baskets, an’ near 60 thousand apples to decant. Holy mother of mercy, this is becoming a chore all in itself. I get some paper to do the workings, don’t want to make any mistakes at this point.

Turns out I prepared too well, I only needed 1250 baskets. And each cart carries seven baskets. So if each puller pulls a cart and collects their apples, and there are 21 of ‘em, then the carts need to be filled, taken back, refilled  with baskets and so on nine times.

My train of thought is scuppered by the groans of my sis.

“Now, when I asked you to prepare this I expected you to use your noggin”

“I did, I just figured, more is better. To have too much is better than to have not enough”

“Yeah well how much time did you waste pullin’ 200 carts that weren’t needed out here? How much time did you waste carryin’ about 3000 baskets out here? They’re all just takin’ up space big brother. You know we need that space for the sortin’ team” she speaks down to me.

“I understand sis, le’ me get a word in edgeways”

“Well I’m gonna have ta leave you here to take care of things. The delivery of orange tress comes in jus over an hour. Ya think you can handle things here?”

“Eeyup, them trees will be stripped of apples by the time you come back” I promise.

She lets me alone, headin’ off for the road. I turn myself around and see the huffing sortin’ team. They’re blowing brimstone over the lack of space. I get started moving all the unneeded supplies back into the fixin’ shed. By the time I am done the first wave of apples arrive. I’d left exactly 1250 baskets for the sorted apples to be dispensed into. I help the first tier of the sorters unload the collected fruit and empty the baskets into the vast sortin’ trough. I supervise the farm hands as they go about their tasks, I feel as I have been put in a position of power I should give myself some time to relax and reflect.

The pullers set off for the orchards again. I gaze into the rouge filling of the sortin’ trough. Jus’ think of all the good these apples will do:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apple Jam, apple chutney, sweeeet apple pie, apple juice, apple tarts, apple martini if you’re tryin’ to look smart, apple crumble, apple extract, apple flavoured popsicles, apple scented candles, apple tinted toilet roll. So many wonderful possibilities!

                                                                                                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh hey there ol’ boy, looks like you’re on your last roots. After whut happened to Pa I caint let you wither and fall. Imma have to chop you down Amis, I’m sorry”

The farm hands are a gathering at my rump. They have finished this orchard, they look pretty darn proud about it too.

“Alright Ya’ll, swell job! Now yous can take a break iffin you need to, the East field is a mighty undertaking”

I give them some time to rest, about half an hour should do. I decide it’s a little soon to chop down mah old friend, maybe I could wait till my orange cousins came by and give him a proper send off.

Time’s a wasting and it’s about time the contractors stop their procrastinating. I strike the bell to signal end of break, a few moans an’ groans but they know who the boss is. So the pullers get their backs a ready to take back on the burden of the apple haul. The collectors grab a final drink of soothin’ apple juice before following the pullers. The Buckers have already reached the hallowed eastern orchard; they wait for me to pull my hoof socks up.

I send my company away with another chime of the bell.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Later on _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I spend a vast portion of mah evening overseeing the last dregs of apples comin’ down from the trees. I pay our sprayers and wave the collectin’, buckin’ and sortin’ teams off. I finished checking the apples for damage and pulled a couple of carts that had been left in the eastern orchard back to base.

I get back to Amis after a quick visit to the house for some supplies, axe in hoof. Night will soon be upon us. I hope Applejack is coping with the orange trees. I unfold my sleepin’ bag and crawl inside. I for once stand witness to the heroic star hiding behind them amber grass hills.

I stay by Amis all night, I don’t care what anypony thought. They can think what they will; they’ll never understand how much I care for this tree. Just before I go to sleep I stroke the bark of the giant, he is a wizened old man now. Some of his bark pulls away with my stroking; I shake the flakes off and gently drift away.

The next day the sun bleeds over them bloody scarlet hills, for before this day fell I had ended the life of mah old friend. My arms are heavy, my back askew. He has been a fair match for my wood axe. He is now only a log, he still has some of his leaves, but he stands proud no longer. That’s why I was helping grow more trees from him; he was not long for this world. Nature’s cruelty don’t stop coz you ask it to. I’d been sayin’ little prayers in my spare time hopin’ he would return to glory. I’m a sentimental, simple type.

I am startled by mah sister, shy aint the sympathetic type.

“Hey, corn for brains” she yells.

“Eeyup?” I reply, flinching at her sudden appearance.

“It’s a tree. Not your friend and certainly nothin’ to crah about” she lectures, prodding the dead husk of Amis with a hoof.

“Did you want something sis?” I ask, rolling my sleeping bag up.

“Yeah as a matter of fact I do. What’s your deal? Leavin’ me to sort the orange orchard all by mahself?” She demands.

“I was under the impression you like going it alone” I pluck a leaf, still some life remaining in it, and hide it upon myself.

“I know we gotta run things by ourselves, but I still need you big brother” she says, hugging me. If it were out of pity or out of love, I’ll never know.

“I know, you don’t need to say anything more. How did it go?” I ask, stuffing the sleeping bag back in its sack.

“How did what go?” she asks, questions answered by questions. She holds the bag between her thighs to help me rehouse the sleeping bag.

“The ‘deal’ of sorts” I grunt, shunting the item inside till the draw cord can be pulled.

“Do you wanna see it?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice”

We go hoof in hoof to the newly established orange pasture. There are 500 saplings, all waiting to be heavy with fruit. The cousins of orange are long gone, already back on the road. She turns to me and readjusts her hat.

“You go into town Macintosh; we need some Pegasi to spray this land” she suggests, maybe she ordered me to. I didn’t have time to speculate or think on the matter.

“Right you are” I reply, skipping off towards the market square.

I get to the square an’ most stalls are only jus’ closin’. I call out to the denizens “Any Pegasi wanting 15 bits! We are lookin’ for Pegasi to help at Sweet Apple Acres!”

I have some joy. Notably, Rainbow Dash comes to lend a hoof. It was awful nice of her considerin’ she’d been working all day in the cloud clearing trade. We don’t have a moment to speak, no time to shoot the breeze between us old friends. I lead my volunteering pegasistance back to the acres and tally off some orders. They shoot off ahead of me without so much a solitary howdy do.

I come back into the Apple Family Home at the end of the day. I straighten a portrait of my Granny Smith and go to the kitchen. Apple Bloom was told to stay out our way durin’ the harvest, she did well to. Applejack joins us at the table and removes a cloche from a plate of food. Underneath is something beautiful, sweet, sweet potato pie! A little yam mash on the side, a dollop of smooth parsnip gravy as well as the crispiest fries you ever did see.

We don’t need telling twice, me an’ bloom forsake our dignity and shovel forkful after forkful of sweet gravy smothered pie into our cake holes. Ah help AJ with the dishes, I’m glad to. She had prepared such a delicious meal for us, it’s the least I could do.

I take lil Bloom up to bed and read her a story Ma had taught us.

“Once upon a silver moon, there was a little filly, just like you AppleBloom. She would always shy away from those who would tease her about the trim of her clothes. She would never tell her older kin, she liked to keep it to herself, keep it hidden. But what the little filly would not see is that her family cares for her, always and forever, trust me. But she would not be a tattle tale for she feared it like she would go to jail. But little Bloom, don’t ever assume that you’re destined to fail. But you see, on that silver mooned night the filly rolled and thrashed in her nightmarish fright. But she can sleep well knowing so true, her brother and sister will see her through"

Sleep tight little mite. I’ll see ya in the mornin”

I got to my own bed, take a read of my journal and fall gently to sleep.

The price of one apple

Apples go to market today, in more ways than one. We’re apples and we’re selling apples, poetic in some far flung way. The life giving sunshine brightens up this morning, rays splinter through the gaps in between them amber grass blades sitting on them hills. I yawn, but it’s pleasant. I make for the kitchen and reap some more of seed AJ has sown. She has made us all a delightful fruit salad. I paw at an apple slice before selectin’ a grape. Bloom fervently scoffs up her apple slices, it’s the only fruit she’ll eat. We finish our breakfast and I, Bloom, an’ AJ put on our apple sellin’ aprons.

I and AJ load the heavy loader carts to the brim with the sorted apple stock. I actually didn’t count how many there were. It takes the best part of an hour before we can close up the carts and give the driver’s the all clear.

I pat the cab of the last cart an’ send it on its way. Me and mah sisters travel to the PonyVille market on hoof. We sent some of the stock to the wholesalers, some to the market, and the rest is to be shipped to lands flung afar. I am given the chance to prove myself of use, I march into the Organic Market and haggle on prices.

“So you’re tellin’ me you’ve got 10,000 apples, organically raised and healthy?” the manager asks.

“That’s about the size of it” I confirm

“I’ll take 3 g’s off of your hooves for say, fifteen hundred bits”

“No deal! That’s half a bit an apple” I snarl back at him.

“And…”

“And I’m not making friends here, Give me a satisfactory offer or I’ll take my family’s business elsewhere”

“Okay Smartass! Thousan’ bits, how dare you be so rude?” he says, spittle spewing from betwixt his rotting teeth.

“Oh real funny, I want 1 an’ a half bits per apple” I explain, holding a supple apple in my hoof.

“Impossible”

“Let me cut you a deal, I think you’ll find it acceptable. We like customers who pay for what they order. If you take all 10g’s off of me now I’ll lower the price to 1 bit an apple. Considerin’ your mark-up you’re still sittin’ pretty” I try to be as clear as possible.

“What is the other choice?” he asks while brushin’ something out from his mane.

“The less you buy, the more I’ll charge per apple. Understood?” I say, squeezing some juice from the apple.

“How about I take 5g’s instead?” he bleeds.

“That’ll cost you 10,000 bits”

“Listen pal, I know you want me to buy all the stock. But what the heck am I gonna do with 10,000 fresh apples?” He asks, his eyes dart around as if searching for assistance.

“You look like a smart stallion, work it out” I say, splitting the apple into segments and throwin’ them at him.

“This is goddam extortion!” He ridicules whilst wiping the juice off of his distinct muzzle.

“You place the order! You face the music! Now I am not taking no as an answer! I came in here with 10,000 apples and I’m gonna leave with none” I yell at him, stomping my hoof to emphasize my behest.

“I haven’t the funds at this moment” he tries to appeal to my kind nature.

“Ok, I can do with maybe leaving with half the stock. But that will be at 1 and a half bit per item”

“Okay, okay. Seven an’ a half, that’s fair” he concedes, an agreement met.

“Been a pleasure doin’ business with you”

“And to you to”

I leave him as my delivery team unload the apples into his storage room. I got back to AJ, she has an expression of pride drawn all over her face.

“Alight” she begins. “Get your rump down the market and see what the smaller merchants are offerin’. We don’t forget the small business pony, remember”

“I most certainly do” I answer.

She sets me up with a cart of maybe 300 apples and sends me up the lane. I trot at a leisurely pace past the commons ponies movin’ around town and the busy market stall owners settin’ up. I meet with a kind old mare, she know our family well. I always do her a special price, considerin’ she has been doing business with us for near 20 years now.

“G’mornin’ Miss Waddle” I cheer.

“Oh my, how you’ve grown” she gushes.

“Why thank you, same as usual?” I gesture to the apples I’ve been pullin’.

“Yes, 200 of your scrumptious apples please” she gleams, fetching a purse from her person.

“Absolutely Miss”

“It’s Mrs, sonny” she corrects.

“Oh… Mah apologies”

“Don’t worry none, how much for the bushel?” she opens her purse, siftin’ through the coinage inside

“Well Mrs Waddle, that’ll be… Let’s call it 50 bits” I say, finally stepping up to where I should be.

“That’s mighty charitable” she weighs her purse.

“Not at all, we need to keep our loyalist customer sweet”

“Well aint you a darling?” she beams, tipping a sum of 50 gold coins out on to the stall counter.

“Think nothin’ of it Mam, jus’ doing my job” I am modest as I count up the coinage.

I bid her good day and walk over to the next stall.

“Howdy there my good sir” I greet.

“Ahh those look good” he brown-noses; I can virtually see the thirst in his eyes.

“Good? These here are the finest examples of apples in all Equestria”

“Don’t be so cocky, get ya in to trouble” he advises while checking the stock I have left.

“I aint makin’ it up, just ask any one of my satisfied customers” I assure him, pointing to a few of the Apple Family clients across the way.

“Eh, I’m only joshin’ you. I know you only grow the best” he laughs at my confusion.

“Damn straight!”

“So, you got maybe a hundred left in there?” He scratches his chin.

“Eeyup, an’ maybe a few spare”

“Interesting, well what you chargin’ these days?” He produces a few purses of coins from upon his person.

“We like to keep the smaller business goin. We have an agreement so to speak”

“Okay then. 50 bits for a hundred” he hopefully offers.

“That’ll do nicely, at half a bit an apple; you couldn’t find a better deal”

“Much obliged sir, give my regards to your sister” He says as he holds out a purse of coins.

“I’ll pass on the sentiment, have a good day sir” I reply as I take them.

“And to you to”

I wave as I leave and return to my sister’s side. She is pleased with my progression since I used to be so shy. I used to be not too far from being a dribblin’ hermit. The recent air of urgency has me changin’ for the better though. My lil sis turns to me, still a look of pride slapped across her face.

“You’re doing so well big brother. If only…” she begins before I cut her off.

“Don’t fret AJ. It doesn’t need to be said” I dote to her, patting her gently on the snout.

“Thanks…” She swats my hoof away.

“For what?”

“For everything, this harvest would have failed if it weren’t for you”

“No, it was down to everypony” I rub the back of my hoof against the other.

“I sorta knew that” she looks down, deflated.

“Well, how much left is there to trade?”

“45 thou”

“So you went to the wholesalers then?” I ask some, rhetoric apparent in my tone.

“Yeah, there’s one more thing ah need you to do” she reaches out with her small orange hoof and places it on my shoulder.

“Go on…”

“in’ernational trade makes up most of the acres’ profits. I’m gonna need you to go to our trading representative in Canterlot and agree on a price” she explains to me, patting her hoof on my face as the don of the mob would do.

“Wasn’t it previously agreed?”

“It was. But times are tight at the minute”

“When do you want me to go?”

“It’ll take a day for the apple carts to reach the Kingdom. You’ll have to be there… Tomorrow”

“Ah don’t think that’s right” my voice quietens.

“The farm’ll go under if yah don’t. Our home, where’s your lil’est sister gonna live then?”

“But…” I start, more sheepish than ever.

“No! I’m sure she would understand”

I cut my day short and return back to the empty dinner table of the Apple Family Home. Lil Bloom was back in school now. At least she didn’t have to shoulder the burden, it wouldn’t be fair. I chew at the wood of the table, sucking greedily the air. A terrible habit, but it took my mind off of things. I put myself to bed without supper, I felt full enough with regret and air to think about eatin’. It’s pretty early, but I don’t wanna face Bloom. AJ can deal with all of AppleBloom’s needs. I close my eyes and once more drift along into a land of dreams.

The sun bleeds over them amber grass… Oh fuck it. This morning is gonna suck. I go downstairs and not a soul is awake. There is no food in the pantry, no sounds to be heard and to put the black coal of a cherry on top, it’s raining again. I plod through the mudded streets and along the empty town lanes before reachin’ the station. The Canterlot Express is only just pulling in, but still something else weighs heavily on mah mind.

I board and find a seat as far away from the other commuters as is physically possible. The train ride is a grind; it scrapes along those rails like they were thousands of years old. I am alone with my anguished thoughts for hours before I finally reach the gilded gates and golden towers of Canterlot. I get off at St Lumis station and wonder into town. Our international representative is one Filthy Rich. He’s the father of Diamond tiara and the soul owner of Equestra ‘n’ Global Corporation. He has connections all throughout these lands, it’s vital I speak with him. I don’t search for long in the polished stone rows of streets before I find the stallion and am sent through up to his office by the reception mare.

“Mr Rich? I’ve come about the, ummm… trading” I say, settling into a chair in his office.

“Ahh, Macintosh Apple I assume” he correctly addresses, taking his seat at the bureau.

“Eeyup”

“How much product are we talkin’ about here?” he gestures out of the window to the convoy of apple carts.

“Close ta 45,000” I reply, cupping my hooves together.

“That’s quite the haul. Now you have to bear in mind I take into account transit charges and man hours for shipping” he says, producing an abacus and some note paper from a draw in his desk.

“I understand sir”

“As a settlin’ point, I can’t go higher than 1 bit an apple” he conquers, checking his workings.

“That’s perfectly fine”

“We’ll call it 46 big ones. Agreed?” He postulates, placin’ his mathematical equipment back under his desk.

“Sounds perfect” I say while hoofing him a quill and a pot of ink.

“Now, come to think of it. I’m the one stickin’ their neck out here. What if it goes on the chopping block?” he starts, pushing the writing fixin’s back towards me.

“I don’t quite follow” I query.

“What if I can’t shift all this stock? I’m takin’ a gamble here” he misers, pushing his chequebook out of reach.

“I thought we’d done business before”

“That we have. But I have never seen so many apples in my 40 loong years”

“So there’s a problem?”

“Of sorts, I need insurance. I need some fall back in case… things don’t go so smoothly” he says, tapping a rhythm on the desk.

“Well pretty much all the pony population is vegetarian. Why would there be a problem selling apples?” I ask, leaning towards Filthy Rich in a ready to listen sort of way.

“Because you’re not the only folks around who grow them” he replies, baring his teeth a little.

“So, what exactly are you getting’ at?!” I demand, growing impatient. I push myself above the desk and glare down at him.

“If I can’t sell half the apples, I get mah money back” he posits, rising to my level.

“Take a walk sir! You need to rethink your sales patter!” I shout, smashing a hoof down on his varnished desk.

“Listen son, I’ve been doing…” he begins, swatting my hoofs from under me.

“Excu – you do not refer to me as such” I say, growing more and more frustrated with him. I shove his files and fax machine right off of the desk.

“And you don’t fuckin’ undermine me!” He rebukes, navigating around the table and swinging his hooves at me.

“I am not being pushed around by the likes o’ you!” I say, pushing him back.

“The likes of me? The fuck you think you are?” he says, flipping my chair away.

“I know I got more integrity in my shit than you have in your entire constitution” I glower at him as I plough him up against the wall.

“You get out of my office, else I call security!” he threatens. He slips through my hooves like the serpent he is and returns to his place at his desk.

“Actually I think I’ll stay a spell” I reply, circling around his desk and leaning at the corner.

“Sec…” he tries to call his muscle but I cram a hoof into his pie-hole and send him onto the floor.

“Now… Imma make this nice and clear. So clear even somepony with their head stuffed up their ass as far as yours will have no problem understandin’” I say, picking him up by the scruff of his shirt.

“Please” he squirms “name your terms”

“You will pay 2 bits per apple, and you will think yourself lucky”

“B-but what if I can’t shift them?”

“Then I hope you got a big appetite!” I jest, throwing him back into his desk chair which too rolls back a spell.

“Please be reasonable” he cries, shuffling back to his desk.

“You wanna know what…”

I hold my tongue. He doesn’t deserve to hear what happened. He’s a no good weasel and he was to be treated as such. I put ‘im nicely back down at his desk and he gets his chequebook.

“Now bare this in mind, if that bounces I’m gonna break every bone in your body”

“Come on now. You know I’m good fur it” he cowers.

“I can’t trust a snake in the grass like you”

He finishes the cheque and hoofs it over to me. I nod as I leave his office and descend back down to the polished stone streets below.

I make a b-line back for the station and leave with the money safely encompassed in the flimsy slide of paper. The train pulls away and so too does part of me. The part of me who fled at the sound of danger and hid at the call of action was far behind me now. I have another snooze on the long travel back to PonyVille but again, as a stroke of luck, wake just in time for last stop in PonyVille. I leave the steam engine, caboose and cab and amble back to my home.