Cause and Effect (2)
“That pistachio farm?”
Chloe understood exactly what I meant, her face twisting into a scowl. Warren, who had been watching from behind, stepped forward, plucked a leaf from a branch, flipped it over, and muttered under his breath.
“It’s not magnesium deficiency... and it doesn’t match the calcium pattern either... What on earth is this?”
I scraped the edge of the leaf with my fingernail and said, “It’s salt stress. Specifically, damage from sodium and carbonates.”
“What about that farm?”
“Actually, a few months ago, a pistachio farm not far from here got caught over-extracting water. The owner tried to pin the blame for the dropping groundwater levels on Chloe’s pear orchard, but he was caught red-handed.”
“My word... groundwater issues are a massive headache. How on earth did you manage to catch them?”
“We were really lucky. Anyway, the issue back then was groundwater backflow, and there was talk of surrounding farms filing a lawsuit. Chloe was going to opt out since there didn’t seem to be any major damage here yet. But...”
“The damage is clear now.”
“Yeah, it looks like we have to join the lawsuit after all.”
“Well, a lawsuit is one thing, but you’re saying there’s a way to save the trees, right?”
Chloe was far more worried about the pear orchard than she was about getting any monetary compensation. It was the heart of a parent who, when their child comes home beaten up, cares less about the legal aftermath and more about whether the injuries are life-threatening.
“Of course. It’ll be tough, but...”
Knowing there was a solution, even if it wouldn’t be easy, seemed to bring Chloe some relief.
I scooped up a handful of soil and spread it across my palm. It looked fine at a glance, but compared to a few months ago, the soil was darker and damp, almost like mud. And then there was that slick, greasy feeling...
I rubbed my hands together, then showed her the residue still clinging to my skin. “See? Clean soil falls right off your hand, but soil with high salt content feels slick and sticks to you. When salinity levels rise, this is the first sign.”
“Sigh... you told me before, didn’t you? That pear trees are more sensitive than grapes and that we have to get through this flower bud differentiation period carefully. You said if they get stressed at this timing, next year’s fruit set will be ruined. Does this mean it’s already a major problem?”
“With proper management, you’d normally hit 70%. If we’d missed this while they were under stress, we would’ve been looking at 0 to 30%.”
I patted Chloe on the shoulder, seeing her on the verge of tears.
“I told you, there’s a way. Let’s go inside. I’ll explain everything.”
As I led Chloe into the office, Warren followed, muttering, “Pears are even more high-maintenance than grapes. With grapes, there’s still room for recovery before the flowering stage. With pears, one tiny slip in timing and next year’s production gets cut in half.”
“Yes, you’re right. That’s why we need to start emergency treatment immediately.”
I sat Chloe and Warren down on the sofa in the office, pulled over the whiteboard, and picked up a marker.
“First, the root cause is salinity, but before that, we need to adjust the irrigation water pH to 6.0–6.5. You know how to adjust the pH, right?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Good. Next, you need to install a bypass filter on the irrigation line to prevent mud, iron, or manganese from getting in. If you confirm mud is entering the system, you’ll need to add a disc filter and a sand filter to the main line to definitively block clay particles and iron sludge.”
“I’ve got that, too.”
Since I was writing it all on the whiteboard, Chloe didn’t even need to take notes; she just listened intently.
“Great. Once that’s done, the basics are covered. Now, we’re going to open all the irrigation lines and run water for over 40 minutes to flush out the salts.”
“Wait? Won’t over-irrigation cause a surge in water sprouts? You’re saying we should do it anyway because saving the trees comes first?”
“Exactly. It’s an exception. Like you said, saving the pear trees is the priority. If we don’t wash the salts down to the lower soil layers, the flower buds themselves will die.”
I drew a rough sketch of the pear orchard on the board and pointed to the affected area. “Are there any other areas besides here showing these symptoms?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay, that’s a relief, but there are likely areas where the salt is just starting to rise. Once the flushing is done, switch to micro-irrigation for three days. You need to maintain soil moisture at 40–45%. Since we’ve washed out the salts, we need to reduce irrigation to minimize the surge in new branch growth.”
“Sigh... okay, I understand.”
Seeing Chloe nod, I gave a faint smile and continued.
“Right. We need to correct the nutrient imbalance. Let’s use foliar application of iron chelate (Fe-EDDHA) and zinc chelate (Zn-EDTA) to restore leaf color and induce normalization of the flower bud tissue. This will quickly reverse the leaf chlorosis. After that, you need to remove the mulch—the wood chips, straw, leaves, and fabric—to let the moisture evaporate as much as possible. You know why?”
Chloe answered quickly, like an obedient student. “To stop new branches from growing.”
“Correct.”
“And once everything recovers, let’s re-examine the well. Even if it costs more, we should adjust the well depth and reinstall the screen to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
“It’s just one expense after another.”
“That’s farming for you.”
I patted her shoulder, feeling bad for her. Suddenly, Warren, who had been staring blankly at the whiteboard, spoke up.
“Have you ever thought about going into academia?”
“Me?” I was startled by the sudden suggestion.
“I’d never do that.”
“Why not give it some thought? To have such systematic solutions flow so easily... You couldn’t come up with these without a deep understanding of pears and extensive knowledge of soil and groundwater...”
“I’ve just always been very interested in pears. And these are Shingo pears, which are a bit different from American varieties. So, I did some extra studying.”
“...... Astonishing.”
Warren then turned to the dejected Chloe. “Don’t worry. If you intend to pursue the lawsuit, I’ll recommend a suitable attorney.”
“I appreciate it, but I’ll have to decline. My family knows a lawyer, too.”
Even if Chloe’s family wealth was like a firefly before the moonlight compared to Warren’s, they were still a family that carried some weight in the Brentwood cherry industry. Having farmed for decades, it was only natural they’d know a lawyer specializing in this field.
“Haha, is that so? Still, the lawyer I know is likely better.”
“Oh? Just how good are they?”
Warren smirked and said simply, “We call him The Rainmaker.”
“The man who makes rain?”
“He’s the top expert in water rights issues in this area, including Napa Valley.”
Seeing Chloe’s wide-eyed curiosity, Warren immediately made a call.
“Hey, how have you been? Haha, yes, yes... It’s nothing major, but I have a favor to ask. Right, I’d like you to go to the address I’m sending you and take on a case. Yes, let’s catch up soon.”
After hanging up, Warren winked at Chloe. “A friend who looks a bit like a hamburger will be visiting soon. If you talk to him well, he’ll get you a good result.”
“Okay...”
Seeing that the situation was settled, I stood up. It was better for Chloe to have Warren and me gone so she could get her staff to work. Without us around, she’d direct Liam to start the recovery process immediately.
“We’ll be heading out.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
I patted her arm and headed toward the car at the farm entrance. As we left the farm behind, I asked, “Is this ‘Rainmaker’ guy really that good?”
“Indeed. It’s less of an issue in Napa, but in Sonoma, disputes over groundwater are rampant. He’s a bit pricey, but the clients he represents always come out ahead.”
“Oh, so he wins all his lawsuits?”
“Eh? What are you talking about? You shouldn’t be going to court in the first place.”
He looked at me as if I’d said something ridiculous and chuckled. “You act like a fully educated professor, but there’s still a lot you need to learn. Not bad, though.”
I wasn’t sure what was “not bad,” but he laughed to himself and continued.
“I don’t know how it is in Korea, but here in the States, you never know who will win once you go to trial. It takes forever, and it’s hard for anyone to get a satisfactory result. A competent lawyer doesn’t win by going to trial; they win by ending the situation on the most favorable terms for their client before it ever reaches a courtroom.”
“Ah... I see.”
“In that regard, there are three most famous lawyers in Napa Valley, and one of them is The Rainmaker. When there’s a drought or government regulations get strict, he digs through ancient water rights ledgers and complex environmental laws to find the legal right to pull water for our fields, or he finds a brilliant way to poke holes in the opponent’s argument during water disputes to force a settlement.”
At this point, I couldn’t help but ask. “What about the other two? Do they have nicknames, too?”
“Haha, you’re right. One is The Dirt Lawyer. It means he’s a lawyer with dirt on his hands; he’s the guy who guides clients to favorable outcomes regarding complex vineyard boundaries. There’s no one who knows the history of the farms in the Napa and Sonoma regions better than him. He’s also an expert on all kinds of soil contamination.”
“Oh, I see...”
“And the other one’s nickname is The Gatekeeper. This one is simple. He has the best ability to lift development restrictions.”
Honestly, I’d spent years in Napa Valley, but I’d never heard these stories. It was absurd, yet fascinating.
“It’s amazing. I’ve never heard of any of this...”
“It’s no surprise you haven’t. These are the guys who work primarily for wineries that generate tens of millions of dollars in annual revenue.”
I truly felt that the world was vast and there was so much to learn, but Warren asked again, “By the way, where are we going now?”
“Ah, there’s a rice farm about an hour from here. It’s run by a friend of mine who took it over from his late father.”
“How large is it?”
“About 80 acres.”
“80 acres for rice isn’t very big. He must have barely been scraping by.”
“He was struggling a lot. So, we decided to go into a sort of partnership and started a distillery. It’s doing incredibly well now.”
“You mean you sell alcohol made from rice?”
“Yes. Two types—one is a Korean-style vodka, and the other is a fruit soju.”
Warren tilted his head. “I think I have an idea of what a Korean-style vodka feels like, but what is fruit soju?”
“Haha... that’s hard for me to explain. You’ll have to taste it yourself.”
“......”
I drove, wondering how he would react after tasting the fruit soju. After driving for just under an hour, we arrived at the vast, golden expanse of the Sacramento plains, where the rice was ready for harvest—a truly spectacular sight.
In one corner of the farm, several trucks were parked in front of a towering building, loading up goods.
“What’s this? You’re moving a massive amount of product?”
“Yes.”
Warren followed me into the Golden Grain Soju House, his expectations high. The smell of nuruk (fermentation starter) wafting from the entrance actually made him smile even wider.
“Jacob!”
At my shout, Jacob, who was wearing something like a white protective suit, waved his hand and walked out quickly.
“You’re here? Is this the...?”
“That’s right. This is Mr. Warren Winiarski.”
Moved, Jacob grabbed Warren’s hand firmly. “I’m Jacob. I’ve always admired your work.”
“A young man doing great things. Running a distillery like this and showing such significant results. I see you’re moving quite a lot of stock even now?”
“It just happens to be a shipping day. Please, come this way.”
Jacob led us into the office inside the distillery and sat us on the sofa, then brought out two bottles of alcohol without being asked.
“This is what you make...?”
“Yes, sir.”
Jacob looked at Warren with eyes full of anticipation—a mix of excitement and anxiety about what kind of evaluation he would receive.