Author's Notes:

Tags: [Slice of Life] [Applejack]
Originally published on my blog.

Applejack stared at the rows of trees, the red spots among the green leaves taunting her.

She'd never hated apples more in her life than she did right now, and she hated them because she knew she still loved them. She loved bucking apples, and she was proud of her farm and her skills. But she she should have started this two days ago, and looking at the trees ready for harvest, she knew she still couldn't do it.

She had never been what a pony would call bad at bucking apples. There was a time, a long time ago, when she first got her cutie mark, when she wasn't as good as she was now. But it was part of her special talent, and even then she'd been better than most foals her age. Still, back then, a tree missed here or there was no cause for concern. No pony was perfect, especially when they were learning.

But learning implied getting better; each year she should know how to do more, until she could buck all the apples from the trees easily with a firm kick. That's what had happened, and for a few years she'd happily bucked trees from morning until night during harvest season. It was fun, and it made her proud to see the baskets up and down a row, perfectly filled with fruit and not a stray on the ground.

Then came the year that Big Mac had been hurt. Not her best season, but there was a perfectly good reason for that. Tired and lacking focus, she'd made a right mess of things, but it all worked out in the end, and last year she was ready to go again.

That was the start of the problem. It was true, she was better than the zombie she'd been the year before. She moved from tree to tree easily enough, but several times she had to stop and hit a tree twice. Here and there she had to pick up an apple. Mac had pointed out a tree she'd missed in the middle of a row. Nothing awful, but... not perfect.

Applejack knew she was good at this. This wouldn't be a problem if she didn't understand that. She knew that she wasn't a perfect musician, so a few off notes never stopped her from picking up her fiddle. She didn't have to be flawless at the rodeo, or win every game against Rainbow Dash. But apple bucking... that was important. It was who she was. She wasn't sure how to touch her hoof to a tree if it was going to prove to her, and to everypony, that maybe she didn't deserve the apples on her flank.

So she stared at the trees, and swallowed. She hesitantly approached one, knowing that she had to start soon. It was her job, it was why she was here, and she loved it. And this feeling of guilt and fear, this was just foolishness keeping her from what she knew would be at least useful, and almost certainly successful, even if it took more care and attention than it had before.

Foolishness or not, she couldn't stop feeling like this. She considered leaving the orchard, going someplace where she could relax and talking about this with her friends. She knew exactly what they would say; they would point out that she was still good at her job, better than any of them (except maybe Twilight. But the ability to float apples off the trees with magic wasn't a talent everypony possessed.) They would also point out that if she loved bucking apples, there was no reason to let a few mistakes keep her from doing it. And they would suggest that if she didn't get back to actually bucking apples, she'd never know how well she could do it this time.

Applejack knew they would say all of that, and she knew they would be right. So, she could probably skip that part and just buck a gosh darn tree already. She looked at the tree in front of her, and examined the bark, looking for just the right spot for her hooves to land. She stretched out her legs, turned around a tested the angle. She tensed her muscles, ready to give a good buck, almost excited. This would be the time, it would work perfectly, and she'd just head on down the row like she was born to buck apples.

She stopped before she'd even started, as doubts crept in. She turned and looked at the tree again, and made sure she was right about the spot. She was. And if she wasn't, it still would have been faster to get the tree bucked wrong and give it a second kick than all this checking and double checking.

Up at the farmhouse, she heard Apple Bloom calling that lunch was ready. The morning already gone, and not one tree bucked. For a moment, Applejack considered leaving, going to get some food and coming back to this with a fresh mind, but she knew that procrastination wasn't the answer. For one thing, it had been two and a half days already, with plenty of chances to clear her mind, and somehow her mind was cloudier than ever. For another, the clarity of not staring at a tree was beginning to feel like torture; she would relax and everything would seem simple, all of her foolish thoughts would disappear, and she'd head back to this spot smiling and ready to just kick the tree... then the fog of fear and guilt would creep back with every step towards the orchard.

Instead, Applejack just stared at the tree, furious with herself. Foolishness and excuses and pride, that was all it was. Stupid reasons for letting her family and farm down that she'd never accept from anypony else. She wasn't accepting them from herself, either, she hated herself as much as she hated apples right now. She never wanted to look at another apple tree again, and she was going to stare at this one until she did.

She sat down in the grass, never taking her eyes off the tree, and waited. And waited. And as the sun rolled overhead, and midday turned to afternoon, she asked herself, what the hay is so hard 'bout buckin' an apple tree?