Chapter Text
Earth Ponies are known for their stamina, so of course Twilight can’t keep up with Applejack’s family when it comes to the never-ending series of chores that keeps the farm running. After Twilight has nearly fainted a couple of times, Applejack starts shoving her off to the watering troughs near the end of every hour, for a break that the rest of the family doesn’t seem to need.
Even so, by the time Twilight has gathered eggs, fed the pigs, washed the sheep, pulled weeds (after she’d learned to tell the difference between the weeds and the carrots), checked all the grape trellises for any necessary repairs, swept out the barn, scrubbed a wagon, hung up the laundry, painted a shed, mowed the lawn, and put all the tools back in their proper order, she’s about as exhausted as she’s ever felt in her entire life.
Also famished. As the food gets set out for lunch, she finds herself drooling. “I am so ready for this day to be over,” she declares as she begins to load her plate.
“T’ain’t hardly noon,” Applejack counters. “That’s when we start tending to the orchard.”
(Twilight looks up at the sun directly above them, and lets out a despairing groan.)
Devouring a gigantic pile of food doesn’t seem to stop the family from chattering away, several conversations cheerfully overlapping; Twilight’s not used to this much talk period, let alone being so impolite as to talk with one’s mouth full. At least they mostly talk with each other—after Twilight has answered a few basic questions and they’ve stopped thinking of her as a novelty.
Before too long, Twilight finds herself swept away in the camaraderie of a big family as they share grins and laughs, trade jokes and stories, even tussle around a little or steal each other’s hats. Watching their exchanges, she’s struck by what she missed out on, growing up with only a brother and her parents and Spike. Or, for that matter, spending most of her time with books instead of people, to the point where it took a very literal disaster to shake her out of her solitude and open her up to the benefits of… connection. Companionship amid diversity.
The latter half of the day is spent pruning and fertilizing the trees, then checking the leaves, trunks, and roots for disease and then going over miles upon miles of fencing. (“Most o’ the time, we’re fine, but a break in the fence can let in a ton o’ critters,” Applejack explains. “They can take down a harvest right quick if we don’t notice in time t’ chase ’em out.”) By the time the bell calls them in for supper, Twilight finds herself sapped of energy (and ravenous again).
While escorting a sleepy Twilight back to the library, Applejack sighs contentedly. “I know y’ain’t used to a hard day’s work,” she says, “but ya did good. Gonna be sore in the mornin’, though. Might see if Rarity could take ya to that spa she goes to. I don’t much care for that kind o’ pampering myself, but relaxation sure feels great after you’ve truly worked yer heart out.”
When Twilight falls into bed that night, she’s never felt more grateful for a good soft mattress. Exhausted, yes, more than she’s ever been in her life, but… surprisingly satisfied with her day.