Honeybees and Farming (1)
"So annoying! It's just so annoying!"
The girls watching Elaina couldn't help but feel awkward at her rough, petulant outburst. They knew better than to cross her, given that she was the daughter of the owner of Silveroak Hills, the finest vineyard in Napa Valley.
Yet, there was one person even Elaina didn't dare treat lightly.
"Just forget it. You said you got a hit in, didn't you?"
At Chloe's words, Elaina barely managed to suppress her anger.
"Those stupid, trashy Wetbacks..."
Everyone looked slightly startled at her use of a racial slur, but no one dared to tell her directly that she was in the wrong.
Chloe felt the same, but her brow furrowed at what Elaina said next.
"That yellow monkey is the same. Some monkey from the middle of nowhere..."
"Can you stop?"
"......"
Elaina's eyes widened at Chloe's slightly irritated tone. No matter how wealthy her father was as the owner of the best vineyard in Napa Valley, it couldn't compare to the Chloe family's standing.
Of course, since she was clearly losing in the school's social hierarchy of beauty and power, Elaina couldn't act recklessly in front of Chloe.
"And Brian didn't even say anything to you, did he? I heard he just greeted you."
"That's because..."
"I know you're angry, but let it go. Forget it and let's have a party this weekend. Evan said he'd bring the guys from the football team."
"...Okay."
Having placated Elaina, Chloe walked past the lecture hall and glanced toward where Brian usually sat, but she couldn't find him.
With a low sigh, she walked past the room with an unreadable look in her eyes.
In a corner of the school soccer field.
"Did I really do something that wrong?"
I looked down at Armando, who was clutching his head in agony, and clicked my tongue.
"Tsk tsk... why do you go around saying such useless things?"
"I was just curious!"
"...You're hopeless at dating. The most important thing when you're in a relationship is not to blurt out exactly what's on your mind."
"Really? Is that a thing?"
"You wouldn't know. Anyway, it is. The most important thing in dating is reading the room. Having a sense for it."
"Sigh... is it not going to work out with Christina?"
"How did you jump to that conclusion? After getting slapped by Elaina?"
In the end, Elaina couldn't hold back her anger and slapped Armando across the face. The impact of that moment...
Knowing he had messed up, Armando just rubbed his cheek with a look of injustice, while I kept an eye on Elaina and slowly backed away, afraid I might get hit for no reason.
"But honestly, I feel wronged. Not because I got hit, but because it's a problem that they put table grapes covered in pesticides out there! They should have just been honest about using pesticides instead of lying and calling it organic!"
"It is a problem, but you didn't have to be the one to expose it."
"That's true."
Having readily admitted his mistake, Armando tilted his head and asked, "Are you guys not putting out table grapes?"
"You know the state of our farm. The previous owner sold off all the decent grapes, and we're just making vinegar with what's left."
"Vinegar?"
"Yeah."
"Man..."
"But next year, we will. Table grapes."
"Really? That won't be easy, you know?"
"I'm confident. Next year, the grapes from our Redwood Vineyard will be recognized as the best in Napa Valley."
Perhaps it was because of my unwavering confidence? Armando stared at me blankly with wide eyes before saying, "That's amazing. You really have incredible confidence. Are all Asians like that?"
"You should consider me special."
"Oh- then hire me at your farm. I want to learn from you too."
"Huh? Nah... I don't teach just anyone."
Armando suddenly grabbed my leg.
"Please!"
"Alright. I'll think about it."
"Hahaha! Great!"
After going through all that, I returned home and, as always, threw my bag in the farm warehouse and headed to the winery.
"How is it?"
My parents smiled brightly when they saw me.
"You're here? How's the smell?"
The scent of grapes mixed with the sour tang of acetic acid filled the winery. Just by the smell, I could tell things were proceeding properly.
"Oh- looks like it's going well?"
"Right? What if this sells really well?"
Mom was already worrying about happy things.
"Worry about that when the results come out later."
At this, Dad looked at the large tank that was fermenting well and said worriedly, "Is it just waiting from now on? What do we do in the meantime? The pest control is all finished..."
"Are you worried because you have nothing to do?"
"Well, yeah. It seems like Mom can handle this on her own now, and as a farmer, I feel uneasy just sitting around."
Dad, who had shown a strong will not to experience failure again, seemed anxious now that he had a moment of respite.
"Don't worry. We have plenty of work."
"We have work?"
"Of course. Did you think we'd just do pest control once and wait until spring?"
"Wasn't that it?"
"Dad. What did I say? I told you I'd make it so we can grow the best Cabernet Sauvignon in Napa Valley. Do you think that's possible just by looking at the weather?"
"Th... that's true, isn't it?"
"From now on, you and I are going to make compost. This is compost that didn't exist before; I learned it at school."
Naturally, this was compost that wouldn't appear in schools during this time. Because what I was trying to make was Pyro-Compost.
"Really? How do you do it?"
"First, we need a drum."
"A drum? What? Aren't we buying it?"
"We aren't buying it. Go and get a drum. And get thick things like tree branches and rice husks. And grape skins too. Absolutely no wet plywood or painted wood."
"No... what are you doing?"
"...... I'll go get some grape skins. Oh, and I'll bring some dust masks and gloves."
As expected, bossing Dad around wasn't easy.
"Is this enough?"
Dad had managed to find a pretty decent drum somewhere. He worked hard to gather the materials I mentioned, and I didn't slack off either, gathering grape skins and branches. Since the area was all farms, finding dead tree branches wasn't that difficult.
I grabbed the used drum I had prepared and moved it to the center of the yard. The drum made a dull thud as it hit the ground.
"Now what?"
"Please use a nail to punch holes in this drum. Not at the top, but toward the bottom..."
"How many holes?"
"About... 15 to 20?"
Dad nodded lightly, rolled up his sleeves, and began the work. The sound of iron meeting hammer rang out with a crisp clang, clang. And while Dad was punching holes in the drum, I stacked the materials inside layer by layer.
"Is it all done?"
"Yes."
I filled it halfway by layering the residue and branches, then lit a fire from the top of the drum. The flames slowly began to burn from top to bottom, and soon, fire spread across the entire top of the drum.
"Now, we'll cover it slightly with the lid to control the airflow. Dad, please prepare some sand and a fire extinguisher over there."
Dad brought the fire extinguisher and sand from right next to us. I covered the lid at an angle so that air could enter appropriately.
"But what is this?"
"Ah, this is called Pyro-Compost. The biochar here is similar to charcoal, but it's a form of carbon made so that it doesn't burn completely due to oxygen. If you look at it, you can just think, 'Oh, it's charcoal.'"
This time, Mom watched and asked, "What's good about doing this?"
"I told you it's similar to charcoal when it's finished. The countless tiny pores in this charcoal act like a sponge to hold onto water and nutrients. So, it holds up well even during a drought, and fertilizer doesn't wash away easily even when it rains a lot."
"Oh my, really?"
"On top of that, it absorbs the smell of compost, so the stench is greatly reduced, and it helps microorganisms multiply well."
Dad, who had been listening quietly, asked, "That sounds good. Then what's better about this than fertilizer?"
"Ah, you can think of this as something that helps the fertilizer. Since it keeps the soil around the roots moist for a long time, irrigation costs will... at the very least, drop by 20 to 30%, and since Phosphorus (P) and Potassium (K) are absorbed better, fertilizer costs will also decrease. By as much as 20%? And because organic carbon in the soil increases, the taste and aroma of the grapes become deeper."
Dad's eyes went wide at my explanation.
"That much?"
"Yes. The variance in acidity and sugar content also decreases. So, naturally, we have to do it, right?"
"Y, yeah..."
As we spent time talking, about 40 minutes passed, and the amount of smoke visibly decreased. I quickly put out the fire using the fire extinguisher and sand.
"It's done. Now, after cooling this down and crushing it, the biochar is complete."
We crushed the cooled biochar into small, pea-sized pieces using a wooden mallet and a pickaxe. Mom and Dad, wearing masks, swung the pickaxe and mallet hard, and I added my strength between them.
Once the biochar was ready, we moved on to the next step: mixing it with compost.
"We're going to mix the compost and biochar in a 9:1 ratio. For moisture, it's good if it crumbles slightly when you squeeze it with your hand."
I explained while evenly mixing the compost and biochar with a shovel. Dad focused on my words and followed along.
"Now we'll cover this with plastic and let it age for about two weeks. Then, microorganisms will enter the pores in the charcoal, allowing the crops to grow well."
"I see... our son is truly amazing."
Mom grabbed my hand with an emotional look on her face.
"Haha... why are you being so shy... it's only natural."
"Then what do we do after two weeks pass?"
As Dad asked with an expectant look, I went to the grapevine in front of us, dug a furrow around the tree with my hands, and said, "See here? You just dig a furrow about 5 to 10cm deep along the circumference of the grapevine stem like this, spread a handful of charcoal, and then cover it with soil."
"Oh, I see."
I straightened my back, looked at the tree, and stroked the trunk, which had been weakened by powdery mildew.
"If they eat well and grow, healthy ones will come out next spring."