"Yeah, but you've been working so hard that I think you deserve a break," I explained.
"Sounds good to me," said Amy, throwing down her hoe but giving me a squinting stare.
Something in me couldn't go on anymore without knowing.
***
Before church the next day, I wandered through the orchard examining branches. They were still covered in blossoms, but I didn't know the difference between a live blossom and a frozen one. I shook a few trees to see if anything fell off. The pink petals hung on stubbornly.
As soon as Brother Brown came into our Sunday school class, I got up and walked toward him. "Did they make it?" I asked very seriously. I could see he instantly knew what I was talking about. I could feel the worry written all over my face.
The side of his mouth raised up as if involuntarily starting to grin. "Well, I think they pulled through."
"Really?" I replied breathlessly. I wanted to shake his hand or hug him. Instead, I sat in the seat closest to where he was standing.
***
The temperature rose steadily after that week, rarely dipping into the thirties again. The blossoms eventually fell off the trees in a great shower that covered the ground in pink. They left tiny round balls behind that were the start of apples.
Their appearance made the orchard feel more serious, as if spring's allusions were over and the real business of growing had begun. Our work felt more serious too. If the trees and weather hadn't cooperated, we could have quit then and there. My sisters and cousins would have felt gypped, but I wouldn't get all the blame. Now the expectation of a payoff began to grow with the apples. There was no going back, and someday soon my promises were going to come due.
Chapter 9
Water, the Free and Dangerous Kind
The New Mexico state flower is the yucca. A yucca probably has more in common with a cactus than it does with an everyday flower. It grows long, needle-sharp leaves that stick out like a porcupine's quills. From the middle of these a tall stem grows, decorated with yellow petals.
When you grow up in New Mexico, just like the yucca, you rarely have access to much water. If left alone, most of the land would look like our plot of desolation—dirt, rocks, and tough weeds. You start seeing the world in browns and reds.
The area surrounding our house was mostly those colors except right near the front door. My mom had planted a little patch of grass she called her "touch of civilization." It was only about fifteen by fifteen square feet, but my dad wouldn't let it get any bigger because it had to be watered with city water that came from the tap. We were repeatedly reminded 'that they charged by the gallon for that stuff'.
Not all of the area around Farmington was desolate. The San Juan River brought some of it to life. People had been irrigating for decades by pulling water out of the river with canals. Wide swaths of the valley between the river's plateaus were green with fields of alfalfa, beans, and corn.
The nearest canal to our house was on the opposite side of the road that led to Farmington—State Highway 550. One thing the library's apple book had made clear was that an apple tree needed lots of water. I knew that Mr. Nelson must have used water from that canal if he had ever gotten anything to grow, but I had no idea how he'd done it. In fact, since I could walk, I had always been warned to stay away from the canal. In my mother's eyes, it was nothing but a baby killer that could sweep away and drown her kids.
As the weather grew warmer, I knew we had to get some serious water on the trees. This meant figuring out the canal and irrigation. I went through my usual progression of adult advisors.
Mrs. Nelson simply said, "I know my husband used to go across the road to turn the water on. He used to always wear big rubber boots and take a shovel."
My dad said, "If you can figure it out, let me know 'cause I'd like to use some on this yard. Something besides these weeds might class things up a little."
***
Again I found myself in Sunday school staring at Brother Brown. After the close call with the blossoms, our joint worrying had brought us together somehow. At least I felt that way about him. It was still unclear how he felt about me.
I cornered him after class, blocking his way to the door. "So how are your trees doing?" I began.
"Fine," he answered, trying not to look at me.
"Brother Brown, when is it time to start watering them? You know, with irrigation?"
He seemed a bit amused. "Is there water in the canal?"
"Ummm, I don't know."
"Well, you can't water without water."
"When there's water in it, do you think I could come watch you, you know, irrigate?"
He thought about this a long time. "We'll see when there's water."
I thought that sounded pretty hopeful. A "we'll see" was getting pretty close to a "maybe," and with my dad at least, that wasn't far from an "okay."
***
After school the next day, I jumped off the bus and announced to everyone, "I'm going over to check the canal. Who wants to come with me?"
Sam's and Michael's eyebrows went up. Lisa's eyebrows went down. Amy kept walking toward home. After assuring Lisa that we were on official orchard business and she shouldn't tell Mom, Sam, Michael, and I dodged traffic and crossed the road.
We climbed the embankment that hid the canal. The canal banks were thickly crowded with little trees and weeds, so it was hard to see if there was water flowing or not. We inched our way down the bank through the screen of plants until we reached a dry bottom. No water yet. Sam and Michael began wandering down the length of the canal.
"We better go, you guys," I called out. "We don't want to be down here if the water turns on." My accumulated years of warning had begun to make me nervous.
***
We repeated our canal inspection on Tuesday and still found it dry. On Wednesday, however, muddy water was flowing six feet deep and ten feet wide.
"It's on! It's on!" I yelled at my cousins.
"Now what?" asked Sam.
"I dunno. We're going to need some serious help."
That night I grabbed the phone book and turned the pages toward the BROWNS.
"Mom, do you know Brother Brown's name?" I called to her.
"You mean your Sunday school teacher?"
"Uh-huh."
"I think it's Jess or Jessie."
I looked through the list. There was only one Jess. I read out the number to my mom.
"Does that sound right?"
"How should I know?" she replied.
I grabbed the phone, untwisted the long cord, and dialed. I half hoped it was the wrong number.
"Hello?" said a woman's voice on the other end.
"Um, is Brother Brown there?"
There was a pause, then, "Yes, I'll get him." It seemed like a whole minute went by.
"Yeah, hello?" said a recognizable, croaky voice.
"Hello, Brother Brown, this is Jackson Jones from your Sunday school class." I paused, but he didn't say anything. "I saw that the canal water got turned on today, and I was wondering if I could come over and watch you irrigate. Like we talked about."
There was a long silence. "When would you want to come?" he finally asked.
"Anytime that's good for you. Oh, wait, no, I guess it would have to be after school. Say, four o'clock."
"Well ... I guess so. Be here tomorrow."
"Thanks. Thanks a lot. I'll see you tomorrow."
I hung up the phone excitedly. I ran and told Amy and the boys about the special training and how I thought we should all be a part of it.
"How are we supposed to get there?" asked Amy.
"Ride the tractor," I suggested. She groaned, but the boys liked the idea. I also told Lisa and Jennifer that we had to make a special exception and they needed to come along even if it was a school night.
"Think of it as kind of like a class. Or a field trip. Whatever you feel best about," I explained.
"I don't feel good about either one," grumbled Lisa.
***
Amy drove the tractor the next day because she said it was better than riding in the wagon. We pulled up into Brother Brown's yard and saw him walking toward us. I jumped out of the wagon while everyone piled out behind me. "Brother Brown," I called cheerfully, "I brought my whole work crew with me."
Amy gave me a dirty look while Brother Brown inspected us and grunted a little. He was wearing blue biboveralls, and he looked more relaxed than he ever did at church.
"Let's go, then," he said, and gestured toward the nearest trees.
We followed him in single file, walking past a large, brightly painted green tractor.
"I like your tractor, Brother Brown. It's a John Deere right?" called out Sam.
Brother Brown turned his head slightly to see who had spoken but didn't say a word in return. We tunneled through a part of his orchard. The trees were about the same size as ours, but the rows much longer so that when you were in the middle of one, you began to lose your sense of direction. We emerged near the highway and then followed Brother Brown across. He climbed the canal embankment and found what looked like a steering wheel attached to a long screw. The screw ran down into a cement wall built into the side of the canal. Brother Brown began turning the steering wheel, which raised a sheet of metal built into the cement.
"Uh, whatcha doin'?" I called to him from a little way up the canal's bank.
"Gotta open the ditch," he said, and kept turning.
With each twist of the wheel, the metal sheet rose higher and water began rushing into a smaller ditch perpendicular to the canal. When the gate was all the
way up, a healthy stream of water had filled the ditch, flowing toward the road and disappearing.
"Where's the water going?" I asked Brother Brown.
"Pipe under the road carries it to the other side," he said as he climbed the canal bank and started walking toward his orchard.
"Does everyone have a gate and a wheel like that?"
"Everyone who can get water."
"How can I find the one for our orchard?"
"Better start lookin'."
We crossed the road directly across from Brother Brown's wheel. Next to his last row of trees, water was pouring out of what looked like a hole in the ground. It filled a deep ditch that ran parallel to the road. We followed Brother Brown past ten rows of trees until we came to a tarp that had been set across the ditch and held in place by rocks.
"Got to make a little dam for the water," said Brother Brown, gesturing toward the tarp.
He adjusted the tarp and then waited until the water level had raised to about half the ditch's height.
"You know about siphoning?" he asked, looking at me. He gestured to some aluminum pipes lying on the ground.
My face grimaced and my stomach began to hurt. He didn't expect me to start sucking ditch water through those pipes, did he? "Yes," I said nervously.
"Grab a few of those pipes and get 'em going," he said sharply.
I picked up the nearest pipe and put one end in the ditch. I reluctantly knelt down on the ground and put my lips on the other end, ready to suck.
"No, no, not like that," snapped Brother Brown. He grabbed the pipe from me and shook his head. He put one end in the ditch and covered the other with his hand and then moved the pipe back and forth two times. Water poured out of one end, and he dropped it on the ground so it filled a small ditch dug parallel to one of the rows of trees.
"What did you do? Can you show us again?" I asked, as if begging him to reveal a magic trick.
He grabbed another pipe and moved a little slower this time. "Keep covering the one end while you push it into the ditch. Uncover it when you pull out," he said as he rocked the pipe back and forth. In a few motions, water came spurting out and he laid the pipe on the ground.
"Need three pipes on each side of every row," he said as he moved to grab more pipes.
"Okay, let me give it a try," I said, turning to the others.
I grabbed a pipe and worked frantically to start it siphoning. No matter how fast or how slow I tried, nothing seemed to happen.
"You're not doing your hands right," said Lisa.
I looked from face to face. Brother Brown was already a few rows away, leaving us behind. I looked at Amy, who had a calm, uninterested expression.
"Amy, you try, okay?" I pleaded.
She grabbed the pipe and moved me out of the way, positioning herself next to the ditch. She put one hand carefully on the open end of the pipe. With two quick motions, water came bursting out and she dropped the pipe in place. She turned to us with a satisfied smile. Jennifer clapped and yelled, "Yay!" I shook my head.
We all got in line for siphoning lessons from Amy. She proved to be a much more patient teacher than Brother Brown. He finished starting pipes for all the rows and came back to find us all still practicing. Little streams of water were now filling the ditches next to the trees.
Brother Brown grabbed a shovel that was sitting near the tarp dam and headed into the trees. "Gotta check the rows for breaks," he said. We followed along and watched as he moved dirt around in the little ditches to keep water moving along or prevent it from spilling out into the middle of a row. He mostly tried to ignore us.
Finally he said, "I'll let that run a few hours," and he started walking toward his house.
I could sense that the lesson was over but wanted to get some last-minute clarifications. "So this is the same way Mr. Nelson used to do his irrigation?" I asked, following him through the trees.
"Yep, pretty much."
"Where does the water go at the end of all these rows?"
"The runoff goes down another ditch that heads back to the river."
"And how often should I water like this?"
"Oh, about once a week."
There was so much more I wanted to ask him, so many mistakes I was sure we were going to make. We emerged from the trees next to a machine similar to the one I had seen in our orchard with all the small metal wheels. He turned to me and said, "I better be getting inside."
"Thanks a lot, Brother Brown. I uh, uh..." I couldn't decide what the most important thing to ask was. I finally said, "Can you tell me what this thing does?" pointing at the mysterious machine.
"Call it a disc. Use it to mix up the soil. Good for weeds too," he said, and continued toward his house.
"Thanks again," I called.
"Thank you," yelled Lisa and Jennifer.
We climbed back on the tractor and wagon for the slow ride home. I noticed that no one's shoes were wet. A little muddy, but dry at the socks. As I leaned over the side of the wagon watching the road, I remembered where I had seen those aluminum siphoning pipes before—Mr. Nelson's old shed.
***
After school the next day, Amy, Sam, Michael, and I headed across the road to try and find our irrigation gate. We climbed to the top of the embankment, and the boys and I began inching our way toward the trees and plants that grew next to the deep, fast-moving water.
"I don't want to sound bossy, but maybe that isn't the safest thing to do," yelled Amy.
"What should we do, then?" I called back.
"I don't know for sure, but you boys are all pretty clumsy, and I don't want them to have to fish your drowned bodies out of the canal."
We decided it would be safest if only Amy and I got near the water's edge. Sam and Michael were supposed to walk along the top of the canal watching us so they could run for help if Amy or I fell in. The boys didn't like the plan much, but Amy told them they had no choice.
Amy and I made our way carefully along the canal's edge, holding on to the trees and weeds to avoid slipping into the water. After an hour of searching, Amy spotted a rusty wheel hidden in some willows.
"This has to be it!" I shouted. "Sam and Michael, pile a bunch of rocks up on the bank so we can find it again."
We moved aside the trees, and I grabbed the wheel and tried to turn it. It wouldn't budge, even when Amy and I tried turning it together. It took half a can
of mo tor oil and the leverage of a long metal bar to finally get the wheel moving. I gave a cheer as the gate creaked open and water began to swirl around it.
"Guys, go see if it's coming out somewhere across the road," I called. Sam and Michael took off across the road and ducked through the barbed-wire fence that bordered the trees.
By the time I caught up with them, water was pouring out of the ground and spreading over one corner of the orchard. Some was making its way into a ditch like Brother Brown's, but most of it was flooding through the trees, carrying weeds, dirt, and manure with it.
"I don't think it's going where it's supposed to," said Sam, dancing around the spreading water.
"Turn it off! Close the gate!" I shouted to Amy, who was still across the highway.
We stopped the flood and returned to inspect the damage. "We need a better ditch if we want to use those pipes," said Amy. There were still traces of the ditch Mr. Nelson must have used, but after years of neglect, some spots had completely caved in.
"I think this is the type of thing you need a plow for," I said while moving some of the dirt around.
"Why don't we hook that plow in the middle of the orchard up to the tractor?" suggested Sam, always eager to use the tractor.
When we went to look at the plow, I shook my head doubtfully. "I'm not sure how you'd connect it to the tractor. And it's so heavy, I don't think we could move it into place, anyway," I said, kicking it.
"We'll have to get our dads to help again. Jackson, go get your dad and I'll get mine. I'll pull the tractor over by this thing, and we'll meet you back here," said Amy decisively.
Our dads moaned and complained but followed the tractor out to the plow. They circled around it a few times, talking with each other about how it might attach. My dad then backed the tractor up to it, and Uncle David and the rest of us pushed against the plow until some of its arms seemed to match the holes and rings on the back of the tractor. My uncle slid some pins in place and stepped back.
"I can't believe that fits! What are the odds?" yelled my uncle. He and my dad were mostly used to parts not matching up.
They were actually excited to drive the tractor around with the plow on it for a few minutes. They figured out which of the tractor's levers to push to make the plow go up and down, and they started digging a little trench down the middle of a row.
The Year Money Grew on Trees Page 9