The farmer awoke only at the call of her sister. It was long past dawn, the traditional hour in which a pony of her profession would rouse herself and begin the day’s work. But, as she well knew, many helping hooves were eager and willing to contribute to the upkeep of the orchard owned by her and her family. As success had come to the apple growers, they had been able to expand their operations, bringing in more family from out of town to till the ground and harvest the fruit.

The farmer was the daughter and heir to the original ponies who had settled in the area, and her name suitably corresponded with the produce that her family primarily provided. The farmer was better known as Applejack.

Applejack thus had no particular need to rise early. But the sister's encouragement came alongside the growing smell of breakfast cooking, and that provided incentive enough to bid farewell to the soft comforts of bed and blanket.

Moving somewhere between the languidness of sleep and the urgency of hunger, Applejack retrieved her bow from the dresser. With strong but gentle strokes, she brushed out her hair and tied it back. The ponies were not much for formality or frippery, but Applejack allowed herself the blue bow at the base of her tail, just as her father wore his old stetson or her sister her red mane bow.

Satisfied, Applejack adjourned to the dining room of the sizable farmhouse, wherein the remainder of her closest relatives had already assembled. Sister, brother, father, mother, and one who had come before all, their grandmother and founder to the entire region.

Bidding them welcome, Applejack took her seat. Not at the head of the table, where her father held court over all matters material and immaterial. Not at the foot of the table, where her mother gently provided guidance and love. But in the middle, amongst her siblings, as befitting a pony still earning her place and responsibilities.

For their morning meal, the mother had prepared apple fritters, a delicacy particularly desired by Applejack, and which she devoured happily. They ate without speaking, as manners were prized in the household, and because each member of the family knew all too well that food was to be appreciated and cherished, not placed second to the concerns of the day.

But once the fritters had vanished, the family meeting began as normal. The chores of the day were divided, each according to ability and opportunity. The brother and father took upon themselves the most physical labors. The sister, recently having acquired her apple cutie mark that reinforced her proper place on the farm, was cautiously assigned a few new but simple tasks to perform, a responsibility she eagerly accepted. The mother and grandmother had their own roles in the upkeep and maintenance of the household.

And Applejack found herself with a day mostly clear of obligations. She would certainly be needed more in the upcoming cider season, but for the moment, her ingenuity and perseverance in previous efforts had meant that she was already ahead in all the tasks that she would normally see to. With this pleasant revelation, Applejack determined to go into town and visit her friends. She bid farewell to her family, wishing them well as she expressed her love and appreciation, and rose to begin her day.

It was on the path into town that Applejack first met one of her closest friends. The weathermare was headed in the opposite direction, to the environs of the farm itself. Upon exchanging pleasantries interspersed with gentle jibes and competitive braggadocio, Applejack inquired into the weathermare’s plans for the afternoon.

Unfortunately, it seemed that her friend’s work required her attention. Applejack politely smiled and nodded as the weathermare explained in detail the problems that made the current cloud cover unsuitable for the upcoming precipitation. She considered asking the weathermare to simply delay her work and catch up at a later point, but discarded the inclination.

After all, the weathermare was in fact the leader of the entire climate team in the town, and she took her duty very seriously. Applejack at times thought that her friend could have a sense of self-importance that bordered on arrogance, but appreciated that her goals were all based on performing a duty for the community, and not on some personal quest for glory.

Soon enough, the friend excused herself, continuing onwards toward Applejack’s family home, and Applejack set off. It was not a far distance to the small town, and as she approached, the path she followed became wider and more traveled.

Upon reaching the center of the town, Applejack found herself in the midst of the hustle and bustle of normal semi-urban activity. Had this been a market day, and had she brought the wagon to sell her family’s produce from, she would likely have been able to make a tidy profit. But instead, she simply waved and expressed greetings to each pony she saw, all of them familiar faces.

But Applejack sought her friends, those she knew dearly and intimately, not the common acquaintances that she only provided with a smile and salutation. She walked onwards to the round building that housed an establishment owned and operated by one such friend. The store was known as ‘Ponyville Clothing and Alterations’, and though at first glance she and its proprietor would have had very little in common, both shared a vibrant connection reaching back to their mutual childhood in the small town.

Applejack stopped outside, glancing at the dresses on display in the store’s windows and expressed approval to herself regarding their elegant simplicity. She made a note to inquire as to purchasing one, but could not decide between two particularly attractive garments. It was only then that Applejack looked past the display models in the wide windows to see her friend the dressmaker inside.

The dressmaker was preoccupied with measuring and fitting a grey pegasus that Applejack recognized as the town’s primary mailmare. A tinge of disappointment settled over Applejack. She had nothing against the mailmare; in fact, she typically found the mailmare’s clumsiness to be endearing, or at the very least, innocuous. But her presence meant that disturbing the dressmaker would be unwise and unkind.

This meant a change of Applejack’s plans, but an alternative quickly revealed itself. The dressmaker’s business was located rather close to the town’s only library, and another of Applejack’s friends claimed that locale as both dwelling and livelihood.

Applejack entered the library with deliberate quiescence, as traditional in a place of study and reflection. A lengthy novel preoccupied the librarian staffing the circulation desk, but upon taking notice of Applejack’s arrival, the unicorn carefully marked her stopping point and placed the volume down.

They exchanged polite greetings, and the librarian’s reminder about the volume that Applejack still possessed was pointed but friendly. As a manner of deflection, Applejack inquired as to the new works that the establishment had recently acquired, which sent her friend off into a satisfactorily distracted tangent.

That led to a discussion of the merits or lack thereof regarding the recent autobiography of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, entitled ‘Splendens Amor: Key to Her Heart’. The librarian had found the work to be tawdry and overwritten, likely composed by an underpaid ghost writer. Applejack expressed solidarity, but questioned the premise of the accusation. Both of them were so far removed from ever having seen a Princess, much less lived a similar life, to be casting definitive judgment.

The librarian begrudgingly agreed. From that subject, their meditations naturally drifted to their own dreams and desires. The librarian expressed a genuine interest in expanding the reach of her place of business. She spoke of a place that all in town could congregate to learn and enjoy, discussing their experiences with the written words and sharing new insights.

Applejack found this dream to be suitably inspiring but eminently impractical. She refrained from criticizing the hope that her friend held dear. Instead, as her friend asked for Applejack’s own ideal future, she found herself puzzled.

It was an idle question, but one that Applejack felt a duty to answer truthfully. What would be her ideal world? Applejack thought long and hard about her life. She thought about her family. She thought about her work. And she thought about her friends. She had an idyllic existence already, in every conceivable way. Applejack found herself more and more stymied by the question.

Finally, she came to a satisfactory conclusion.

“Ain’t really worth thinkin’ about, sugarcube,” Applejack said.

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