“That pistachio farm?”
Chloe understood what I meant and her face twisted into a deep frown. Warren, who had been watching from behind, stepped forward, lifted the branch, turned it over, and muttered in a low voice.
“It’s different from magnesium deficiency in grape leaves... not a calcium pattern either... What is this?”
I lightly scraped the tip of the leaf with my fingernail and said,
“It’s salt stress. To be precise, sodium and carbonate damage.”
“What farm is that?”
“Actually, a few months ago, a pistachio farm not far from here got caught pumping out a lot of water. Back then, the owner of that pistachio farm tried to pin the blame on Chloe, claiming the groundwater level was dropping because of this pear farm, but he got caught.”
“Good grief... Groundwater issues are a real headache. You were lucky to catch him, then?”
“We really were. Anyway, the problem back then was groundwater backflow, and because of that, the surrounding farms said they were going to file lawsuits. But since there didn’t seem to be much damage here, Chloe was planning to stay out of the lawsuit. But...”
“The damage is clear now.”
“I think she’ll have to join the lawsuit after all.”
“A lawsuit can be filed, sure, but there is a way to save them first, right?”
More than receiving some compensation money, Chloe was worried about the pear farm. It was like the heart of a parent whose child had come home after being beaten somewhere—lawsuits could come later; first, they simply hoped there were no serious injuries.
“Of course. It’ll be a bit tough, though...”
At any rate, Chloe seemed somewhat relieved to hear that there was a solution, even if it would not be easy.
I scooped up a little soil and spread it across my palm. It looked fine at first glance, but compared to a few months ago, the color of the soil had darkened slightly, and it was damp like clay. On top of that, there was that slippery feeling from the soil...
I rubbed the hand that had touched the soil, but there was still dirt left on it. Showing it to them, I said,
“See? Clean soil falls right off your hand, but soil with elevated salts feels a little slippery and sticks to your skin. When salinity rises, this is the first kind of reaction you get.”
“Haa... You said this before. Pear trees are even more sensitive than grapes, so they have to get through this flower bud differentiation period well. You said that if they get stressed at this timing, next year’s fruit set will be ruined. If it’s this bad, isn’t this a serious problem?”
“If they’re managed well, they can normally get up to 70%, but if this had gone unnoticed in their current stressed state, it would have been 0 to 30%.”
I patted Chloe’s drooping shoulder.
“I told you, there’s a way. Let’s go inside first. I’ll explain there.”
As I led Chloe into the office, Warren followed behind us, muttering.
“Pears are fussier than grapes. Grapes still have room to recover before flowering, at least. But with pears, one tiny timing issue can cut next year’s production in half.”
“Yes, that’s right. That’s why we need to start emergency treatment immediately.”
I seated Chloe and Warren on the sofa in the office. Then I pulled over the whiteboard standing against the wall and picked up a marker.
“First, the root cause of all this is salinity, but before that, adjusting the irrigation water pH to 6.0 to 6.5 comes first. You know how to adjust pH, right?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Good. After that, install bypass filtering, an intermediate filter, on the irrigation water line so muddy water, iron, manganese, and the like don’t get mixed in further. If it’s confirmed that muddy water is getting in, add a disc filter and a sand filter to the main line as well, and make sure to block fine clay particles and iron sludge.”
“Got it.”
Since I was writing the information on the whiteboard, Chloe didn’t need to take notes and simply listened closely.
“Good. Once that’s done, the basics are covered. From here, we open all the irrigation lines and run water for at least forty minutes to push the salts out.”
“Huh? Even though over-irrigation can make water sprouts go crazy, you’re saying that right now saving the trees comes first, before worrying about water sprouts?”
“Exactly. Right now is an exception. Like you said, saving the pear trees comes first. If we don’t wash the salts down into the lower layer, the flower buds themselves will die.”
I roughly drew the pear farm with the marker, then pointed to the problem area with my finger.
“Are there any other areas besides here where this is happening?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay. That’s a relief, but there are probably areas where the salts have started rising now. Once the flushing is done, switch to micro-irrigation for three days. Maintain soil moisture at 40 to 45%. Since we’ve washed out the salts, we need to reduce irrigation and minimize the explosion of new shoot growth as much as possible.”
“Haa, all right.”
Seeing Chloe nod, I gave a faint smile and continued explaining.
“Good. We need to correct the nutrient imbalance. Apply iron chelate, Fe-EDDHA, and zinc chelate, Zn-EDTA, as foliar fertilizer to restore leaf color and guide the flower bud tissue back to normal. Once we do this, the yellowing of the leaves should recover quickly. After that, remove the mulching you laid down to maintain soil moisture and suppress weeds—bark, straw, fallen leaves, nonwoven fabric, and so on—so that as much moisture as possible evaporates. You know why, right?”
Like an obedient student, Chloe answered quickly.
“To keep new shoots from growing.”
“Correct.”
“And once everything recovers, let’s inspect the well again. Even if it costs more money, let’s adjust the well depth again and reinstall the screen so this doesn’t happen again.”
“It’s nothing but things that cost money.”
“That’s farming for you.”
Feeling sorry for Chloe, I stroked her shoulder. Then Warren, who had been blankly staring at the whiteboard, spoke.
“Have you ever thought about becoming a professor?”
“Me?”
I was startled by the sudden suggestion.
“I absolutely won’t.”
“Why not think about it? For such a systematic solution to flow out so smoothly... It’s a solution that couldn’t come without a deep understanding of pears as a crop, and knowledge of soil and groundwater...”
“I was very interested in pears. And these are Shingo pears, so they’re a little different from American pears. That’s why I studied them separately.”
“...... Astonishing.”
Then Warren spoke to Chloe, who looked dejected.
“Don’t worry. If you plan to proceed with a lawsuit, I’ll recommend a suitable lawyer.”
“Thank you, but I’ll decline. My family also knows a lawyer.”
Although Chloe’s family’s wealth was as feeble as a firefly before moonlight compared to Warren, they were still a fairly influential family in the cherry industry around Brentwood. They had been farming for decades, so it was only natural that they knew at least one lawyer specializing in this field.
“Haha, is that so? Still, the lawyer I know is probably better.”
“Pardon? Just how good is he?”
Warren chuckled and said briefly,
“We call him The Rainmaker.”
“The man who makes rain?”
“He’s the top expert on water resource issues around here, including Napa Valley.”
Seeing Chloe’s eyes shining round and bright, Warren immediately made a call.
“Hey, how have you been? Haha, yes, yes... It’s nothing else. I’d like to ask you to handle a matter. Yes, I’d appreciate it if you could go to the address I give you and take on just one case. Right. Let’s meet soon.”
After hanging up, Warren winked at Chloe and said,
“A friend who looks like a hamburger will come by before long. Talk things over with him, and he’ll get you a good result.”
“Yes...”
Once it seemed the situation had been settled, I got up from my seat. If Chloe was going to put the employees to work, it would be better for Warren and me not to be there. Once we were gone, she would give Liam instructions and begin the recovery work quickly.
“We’ll get going.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.”
After patting her arm, I headed to the car at the farm entrance. As we left the farm behind, I asked,
“That Rainmaker guy must be pretty good, huh?”
“Of course. Napa is less so, but Sonoma has tremendous disputes over groundwater issues. He’s a bit expensive, but the side he takes has always come out ahead.”
“Oh, so he wins all the lawsuits?”
“Hm? What are you talking about? You shouldn’t let it go to trial.”
He looked at me as if wondering what nonsense I was saying, then chuckled.
“As expected, you act like a fully educated professor, but you still have things to learn. Not bad.”
What exactly was not bad...? He laughed to himself and continued.
“I don’t know how it is in Korea, but here in America, once you go to trial, you don’t know who will win. It also takes a long time, and it’s hard for both sides to get a satisfactory result. So a capable lawyer doesn’t win by going all the way to court. He ends the situation before trial under the most advantageous conditions for his client.”
“Ah... I understand.”
“In that respect, there are three of the most famous lawyers in Napa Valley. One of them is the Rainmaker. When there’s a drought or state regulations get severe, he digs through old water rights ledgers and complicated environmental laws to find the legal right to bring water to our fields. In water disputes like this one, he has an uncanny way of striking at the other side’s weak point and drawing out a settlement.”
At this point, I couldn’t help but ask.
“Then what about the other two? They must have nicknames too.”
“Haha, that’s right. One is The Dirt Lawyer. It means a lawyer with dirt on him. He’s the friend who can steer complicated vineyard boundary lines in favor of his client. No one knows more than he does about the history of farms around Napa and Sonoma. He’s also an expert on all kinds of soil contamination.”
“Oh...”
“And the other one’s nickname is The Gatekeeper. This friend is a bit simpler. He’s the best there is at getting development restrictions lifted.”
To be honest, although I had spent years rolling around Napa Valley, I had never once heard the stories Warren was telling. So it felt a little absurd, but also interesting.
“That’s fascinating. I’ve never heard anything like that before...”
“It’s not strange that you haven’t. They mainly work with wineries that generate tens of millions of dollars in revenue a year.”
The world really was wide, and there were many things to learn. Then Warren asked again,
“By the way, where are we going now?”
“Ah, there’s a rice farm a little under an hour from here. It’s run by a friend of mine. He inherited it from his late father and operates it now.”
“How large is it?”
“About eighty acres.”
“Eighty acres for rice isn’t large. He must have barely made a living.”
“He had a very hard time. So he and I decided to do something like a partnership and built a brewery. It’s doing incredibly well now.”
“You mean he sells liquor made from rice?”
“Yes. There are two types. One is Korean-style vodka, and the other is fruit soju.”
Warren tilted his head.
“I think I can roughly imagine what Korean-style vodka would be like, but what is fruit soju?”
“Haha... It’s hard for me to explain. You’ll have to go and taste it yourself.”
“......”
Curious about how he would react after drinking fruit soju, I drove on. After driving for a little under an hour, we arrived at the vast farmland of the Sacramento Plain, where the rice, ready for harvest, spread out in a magnificent golden view.
And in front of a building standing tall in one corner of the farm, several trucks were parked, loading and moving goods.
“What’s this? They’re shipping out a huge amount.”
“Yes.”
Warren followed behind me into Golden Grain Soju House, full of anticipation. At the smell of nuruk wafting from the entrance, Warren actually smiled broadly.
“Jacob!”
At my shout, Jacob, who was wearing something like a white protective suit, raised his hand and quickly walked out.
“You’re here? Is this the...?”
“That’s right. This is Mr. Warren Winiarski.”
Deeply moved, Jacob clasped Warren’s hand.
“I’m Jacob. I’ve always respected you.”
“Young man, you’re impressive. To be running a brewery like this and actually showing considerable results. You were shipping product just now, weren’t you?”
“It just happened to be pickup day today. Please come this way.”
Jacob led us into the office inside the brewery, had us sit on the sofa, and brought out two bottles of liquor without anyone asking.
“This is what you make...?”
“That’s right.”
Jacob looked at Warren with eyes full of anticipation. His face held half expectation and half worry over what kind of evaluation he would give.