Preparing for Early Spring (1)
By the time the warm, gentle energy of early spring had permeated Napa Valley, my father and I were heading somewhere, leaving the farm work behind.
"Do we really need to go this early?"
My father, driving the old pickup truck we’d bought used, looked annoyed, but I was firm in my opposition.
"Farming is all about networking, too. Especially with wine—the price isn't just set because it tastes good. Wine is a product, and brand trust is just as important. Sales depend entirely on how you market it."
"That... I suppose you're right."
"Exactly. That’s why we have to show our faces at events like this and leave the impression that we’re working hard to make high-quality wine. Think about it. Between a farm that stays quiet as a mouse and suddenly releases a wine, and one that consistently promotes the fact that they’re making a great product—which one would you buy?"
"You're definitely right about that."
My father, who was striving for success, immediately accepted my point and let go of his annoyance.
The morning of the event was bright and clear. As if to herald a bright future for Napa Valley, the vineyards stretching out on both sides of the road to the venue sparkled with fresh green leaves, showing off their vitality.
Dad and I parked in front of an old winery building in Sonoma County, where the Napa Valley Vintners seminar was being held. From the entrance, I could see various farm owners and local experts shaking hands and chatting happily.
"Wow, there are so many people here."
Dad looked around with a somewhat surprised expression. I could feel his tension, as this was his first official event since jumping into the wine business. I patted his shoulder and smiled slightly.
"The information we’ll get at a seminar like this will be incredibly useful. It’s a great opportunity, so don't be nervous."
As we entered, an outdoor garden bathed in warm sunlight and a classic brick building behind it unfolded before us. The seminar was held in a cozy auditorium featuring old bricks and wooden pillars, and it was already bustling with people. The atmosphere, filled with laughter and jokes between people who seemed to know each other well, exuded both seriousness and warmth.
At the front of the auditorium, a large banner hung that read:
On stage, the presenters were checking their materials. Seeing cameras from local broadcasting stations installed, I realized once again how important this event was to the local agricultural industry.
When the seminar began, the moderator greeted everyone with a bright smile and a calm voice.
"Thank you all for attending the Napa Valley Vintners seminar despite your busy schedules. Today will be a valuable time to share various ideas and information for the development of the Napa Valley wine industry."
With a round of applause, the seminar began in earnest. First, a soil professor from UC Davis—the university I intended to attend—took the stage. He clearly communicated the regulations local farms must follow, emphasizing recently researched soil and water management methods and the importance of eco-friendly organic farming.
The next speaker was a representative from an environmental protection group. He mentioned the recent incident at Silveroak Hills Vineyards and strongly argued that one could no longer maintain competitiveness while ignoring sustainable farming and environmental protection. Especially when his sharp remarks were made, a tense atmosphere spread among the audience along with quiet murmurs.
"The incident at Silveroak Hills is no longer just a problem for a part of our local agriculture. If we do not comply with sustainable farming methods, it could deal a major blow to the reputation of the entire region in the long run. It is time for everyone to be vigilant."
As soon as this presentation ended, I headed to the back of the auditorium with my father during the break. At that moment, a familiar face appeared at the edge of my vision.
"Huh? Dad, that person..."
"Ah!"
It was Elowen Pike, the owner of Silveroak Hills Vineyards. And next to him stood Elena, whom I saw at school, and a boy who looked about my height.
Elowen’s appearance was shockingly haggard. Though not as large as Jacob, he had been a confident man with a sturdy build, but he looked like he had lost a lot of weight from the mental stress. I could guess just how much damage he had suffered from this incident.
He seemed to have spotted us too, and he approached with a hesitant expression. Even though he had lost weight, that condescending look in his eyes remained the same.
"Long time no see. What was your name again?"
"Brian Choi."
"Ah, Brian. A name that suits Redwood well."
Dad reached out his hand out of courtesy, and I gave a light nod. Only now did he ask for my name, turning his gaze toward me.
"Good to see you again. I hear you're very smart?"
"......"
"Thanks to you, 200,000 dollars just flew into thin air."
My father, who had been listening, stepped in.
"Are you saying that's because of my son!"
"Ah, don't misunderstand. After listening to the seminar presentation earlier, I’ve felt a lot. Our farm paid a heavy price for the sake of Napa Valley and California, but I thought it was for the best since many other farm owners would be alerted. Of course, since this result came about thanks to your kid, I thought I should let you know."
It was blatant pressure, but I just smiled.
"Is that so? That’s unfortunate. Since you’ll be able to get a high price for good wine at the next harvest, it will be a big benefit to our Napa Valley in the long run."
In short, I was telling him I didn't care that he was screwed, and that it would be good for us anyway, so he looked like he’d been hit by a truck.
"...I suppose so."
"We were hit hard by pests last year, and Silveroak had a disaster due to pesticides, so we can compete fairly in this year's harvest. I’m already looking forward to seeing how the results turn out. What do you think?"
"What? You’re going to compete with us?"
"Yes. We’re planning to enter our farm’s grapes in this year’s Table Grape competition."
Intense heat flared in Elowen’s eyes.
"That’s something to look forward to. Let’s see who wins."
"I’m very excited, too!"
After cheerfully scraping at Elowen’s nerves, I dodged the fierce glares of his children and led my father away from the spot.
Afterward, I met many winemaking and distribution contacts at the seminar and exchanged business cards. Although I had left the grape distribution to the previous owner, John Anderson, for two years, it was better to secure as many contacts as possible just in case.
And the most important thing was to plant the perception in them that the owner of Redwood Vineyard had changed and that we would be producing much higher-quality grapes than before.
While returning to the farm after finishing all that work, I said to Dad:
"Please take me to UC Davis."
"Why there?"
"I have something to pick up."
"Alright."
The campus, bathed in California sunshine, was lively in the spring, and the Agricultural Biology lab building was bustling with students coming and going.
"Wow, university is different, isn't it."
Suppressing my excitement, I walked down the lab hallway. Various posters and research papers were plastered on the doors of the labs lining the narrow hallway, and I could hear the voices of researchers passionately discussing something here and there.
Finally, I found the lab with a sign that read:
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
"Come in."
A soft, gentle male voice came from inside. When I opened the door and entered, a middle-aged professor with silver hair and a short beard looked up from a pile of documents on his desk at me.
"Oh, are you a student? How can I help you?"
"Hello, Professor. I’m from Redwood Vineyard in Napa Valley. I’m here to pick up the pure microbial cultures I spoke to you about over the phone last time."
As I spoke cautiously, the professor nodded with an 'Ah' expression and rummaged through his papers.
"Ah, that’s right. Brian Choi? Did you say you were a high school student?"
"Yes, that’s correct."
The professor put down the documents, slowly rose from his seat, and approached a refrigerator on one side of the lab. A moment later, he returned with three small glass bottles. Inside the bottles were transparent liquids, and they were labeled: Azospirillum brasilense (nitrogen-fixing bacteria), Bacillus subtilis (hay bacillus), and Pseudomonas fluorescens (fluorescent bacteria).
"Here are the pure microbial cultures you requested. But I’m curious, why is a high school student trying to take these?"
The professor looked at me with curious eyes and asked.
I didn't panic and naturally gave the answer I had prepared in advance.
"One of the projects our school’s Agriscience Club is working on is researching the soil improvement effects of microorganisms. My role is to experiment with how much the grape cultivation environment can be improved using these microbes."
The professor raised his eyebrows slightly, as if interested.
"Agriscience Club... that’s a good activity. I didn't know high school students were doing this kind of research these days. Who did you say your advisor was?"
I panicked for a moment, but I smiled and made up an excuse.
"Mr. Miller, the teacher in charge of the agriculture class... he emphasized that this kind of research is essential for our club."
The professor nodded, carefully placed the bottles containing the microbial cultures into a protective foam box, and handed them to me.
"Good, keep them well. Don't forget to maintain the temperature and environment. Especially Azospirillum—it’s sensitive to oxygen, so be as careful as possible to keep it away from air."
"Yes, Professor. Thank you."
I quickly took the box of cultures, bowed, left the lab, and ran to the pickup truck where Dad was waiting.
"Let's go!"
Dad, not knowing what was going on, started the truck and pulled away.
"What did you bring out?"
"I'll show you later."
After arriving home, I called out my father and mother, who were resting.
"Mom, Dad. Please gather for a second. I’m going to show you something new."
My parents, who already realized that I wouldn't be farming using only the fertilizers sold on the market due to the Biochar Compost, came out with curious expressions.
"Is it that thing you brought earlier? Is there something new besides the Biochar Compost?"
Dad brought out his camera, sensing his son was about to teach him something new again, and Mom had a notebook and pen in her hand.
"The Biochar Compost is like a smart sponge buried in the ground. You could say the charcoal powder holds onto moisture and nutrients for a long time, while the fully matured compost supplies organic matter and microbes to boost the soil’s stamina, right?"
"And?"
"What we’re going to make this time is a bit different. It’s a kind of... air fertilizer pack, you could say?"
"Air fertilizer pack?"
"I’m not just bluffing about going to the Table Grape competition and winning. You know what factor most influences the quality of the fruit, right?"
"I know. Isn't it nitrogen?"
I smiled, pointing to the plastic bottles I had brought from school.
"Yes. The air fertilizer pack we’re going to make from now on is for putting nitrogen into the soil."