Geysers

Today was the hottest so far, made 95F this morning then stayed at 92F. Full sun all day, thick humidity boiled off by noon.

Time stood still today, maybe it was just the heat.

Got to the greenhouse a few minutes early and watered up the sprouts. I joined the boys behind the store-- Rhode Island, NYU and Stretch were greasing up with sun lotion and getting their water filled. We got moving and helped the foreman lay out the head-line (which connect the individual drip lines to the irrigation artery) along the cantaloupe rows. Mid-way through plugging in the water nozzles (allowing individual lines to be started/stopped), the boss called our crew over and we headed for the forest field-- grabbing a few hand-hoes and a box of stakes.

Up in the forest field we finished off yesterday's weeding and reinforced the plastic wrap along the cucumber rows. Connecting a few pipes over from the forest artery, we laid a line of water guns along the basil/peppers and several new rows of something or other the foreman planted. Our crew hustled back to the farm store and helped the boss pile the tractor wagon high with pick crates. We handed out the knives and the boys squeezed onto the wagon-- I took the van with Lucy down to the lower fields to meet them. Lettuce was the order, all of it. We cut 28 crates worth of romaine (about 450 heads). Had a few laughs as we cut along. At some point the foreman got the irrigation pumping water through the cantaloupe drips, tomato and forest fields. Once finished we took the wagon load back for a hose down and chilling. On account of the heat the boss gave us an early and long lunch.


The long lunch wasn't meant to be. After a quick pizza trip, I walked from the car to find some shade for a cigarette-- when the foreman waved me over into the road.


The boss had returned along the town road from the hilltop. At some point while turning up to the farm store a young girl plowed into him. We found them in the center of the town road-- her sedan was totaled, looked like the engine was wedged up into the passenger seat. The car hood was crumpled into the windshield. The van might have had a slight dent to its rear bumper. The foreman and I ran over, relieved to see both the girl and the boss walk out.

The boss was perfectly fine and, bizarrely, happy as hell. He rattled off a list of things needing to be done as though nothing had happened-- then turned to call the police/ chat with the girl. So we shrugged and got to it. The foreman ran off to his tasks, and I called the boys to the back of the farm store. I told them what happened then got them packing bushel crates full of the peas Bah and Old Rudolpho's crew had picked. I grabbed up a 10 gallon can of diesel and funnel, then waddled down to the horse pond. I hefted up the can, plugged in the funnel and refueled the old tractor (which was powering the water pump). The boss called me on the cell phone-- he was going to be a few more minutes sorting out insurance information, so I needed to move the irrigation down the tomato field.

I waved the boys over and we huffed out to the field. I spun the iron wheel closing the water gate leading to the tomatoes. We needed to be quick. NYU doesn't like being ordered about, so he grew pissy real quick as I shouted at him and Rhode Island to move their molasses asses. Stretch and I jammed in the 4in pipes extending the artery mid-field, then plugged home the T-pipe/reducers leading down to the 2in water gun pipes. I was afraid that with the tomato water gate closed water pressure would build in the arteries and cause a catastrophe pipe blow out. We stuffed the pipes into place and opened the gate-- when the boss walked over. It was picking time. The boys went to get prepped, but I hung back-- things didn't look right along the tomato water lines.

I jumped the tomato plants and walked the water line-- then saw the break. In their piss-fest Rhode Island and NYU hadn't connected the lines properly. I tried to kick the pipe connected back against its gasket, but things got real messy-- the pipes shot loose, pouring water into the tomato rows. In a quick sprint, I ran, closed the water gate, rammed the pipe connections back into place, double checked/ adjusted the pipes, ran and opened the gate. Better, but still wrong. The foreman was taking a breather behind the store so I went to him. He gave me two wrenches (1/2in and 1in), a length of wire. We scanned the water lines and talked about everything that could be wrong. The foreman is, in his strange way, one of my biggest working advocates. If there's a problem he is familiar with he usually talks me through it, then sends me to figure out the rest on my own. So he wished me good luck and returned to airing out his soaked boots and clothes.

Something was fishy with a water gun at the far end of the line. I unscrewed the nozzle, but the water only trickled out despite all the other guns pumping at full force. It was time for a mess and wrenches. I walked a good distance away-- took off my shirt and emptied my pockets into it (phone, knife, cigarettes, lighter, keys). Rolled up my pants and tied the boots tighter-- it was wrenching time. Back at the busted water gun, I got the one inch and started laying into the water gun's bolt. It was hard going, and I soon found out why. Good thing I had a hard grip on the water gun, as soon as I gave the final twist-- water blew out of the pipe stem with the force of a fire hose, shooting straight up in a 25ft geyser. The water came back down hard as I jammed the wire into the gun's end-- something was stuck alright. I pushed and smashed the wire through with a rock, until a biggish rock and some hard nut shells fell loose-- the easy part was over.

The foreman said that it's possible (with a strong steady hand) to force the gun back onto the pipe stem despite the water flow. So I tried force.  Imagine attaching a sprinkler head to a fire hose. Water blew everywhere. I was drenched in seconds. I wrestled with the water gun for one very long minute. The pressure suddenly kicked down, I looked up to see the foreman wave as he spun the water gate closed-- all I needed. I pushed that gun into place and muscled that one inch wrench like a lunatic. Safe. I cleared out as the foreman spun the gate back open-- problem solved.

I laughed my way back to the farm store with the foreman. Over a well earned cigarette, the foreman told me he'd completely underestimated the water pressure today. From across the field he was watching me, but the moment I wrenched off the gun he thought-- shit, no way in hell that's going back on. He told me I'd better go check the forest field lines-- with all the fluctuations in water pressure, another blowout was entirely possible. Viking gave me a plastic bag to wrap up my pocket stuff, then I hoofed it across the tomato fields.

A few water guns were clogged, but the wire fixed them quick. I took another long cigarette at the wood's edge then ran off to join the boys in the lower fields.

Maybe it was the heat ( or jealousy of my water shower), but the boys met me cold and silent. Out mid-field, they were picking kale-- NYU told me they watched the geyser from the other end of the field. The boss had been with them, and kept saying-- why didn't he turn off the goddamn water, too busy to cut the goddamned water? In retrospect, yes that could have been a good idea. But as the foreman told me-- a blow out was only a minute away with today's heavy water pressure.

The boys eased off soon enough-- the foreman joined us, bringing music. We picked all the kale (both varieties, Red Boar and Dinosaur), filling 8 big cardboard boxes (30-40 bunches) of each. Next was the swiss chard. We picked the whole field's worth-- filling 6 big boxes. Rhode Island had taken his attention medicine after lunch and was a zombie-- he hardly talked except to apologize for past indiscretions/life mistakes. He spent a long time staring off at the woods  With the field cleared, we piled the full boxes onto the wagon and jumped aboard. The foreman took us around to fetch up a bunch of peas Bah and Old Rudolpho's family picked. We loaded the buckets and rolled back to the farm store.

On the ride, NYU wondered pointedly-- how did you start in March, it must have been an icy hell every day. A very distant memory these days. At the store we hosed and packed the kale and chard into the cooler. We descended on Viking, chatting like madmen. She lined us all up and put some sort of vitamin supplement into our hands. We popped 'em without a second thought. The boss was ready and herded us up. We packed the van full of boxes and knives-- Rhode Island took the passenger seat (staring ahead with a look of disbelief)-- Stretch, NYU and I stuffed ourselves in with the boxes. The heat must have driven us mad-- we joked, shouted startling new obscenities and rolled laughing in the boxes. The boss laughed right on with us-- we pulled onto the town road and drove the long way up to the hilltop fields.

We clamored out of the van hooting and hollering, knives in hand. Rhode Island never lost his middle-distance stare. The boss joined us as we hacked through several boxes worth of arugula. We argued with the boss, trying to convince him into producing a cheap farm brand malt-liquor-- he was skeptical, how would he make a profit?-- his field hands would drink it all. Many heated arguments erupted over brands of beer and whiskey. Next we turned to the bok choi. The boss left to check on the potato and corn fields.  I was getting a bit concerned about Rhode Island-- it was hard to tell whether his depression was heat stroke or a side effect of the medicine. He refused any and all water-- it was too warm. Our madness was spent and the boss called it a day. We loaded up the van and piled in.

We washed up the choi and arugula, then stuffed it into the already full cooler. The boys called it a day. I watered down the greenhouse, chatted with Viking and the foreman, and then I left.


The summer is full of strange days. A surprise thunderstorm is blowing over. It turned the sky black. Here with a beer on the porch, smoking-- catch you tomorrow.