Not immune to heat.
But leaves retained better color.
Plants stayed less wilted during midday.
Soil beneath the lines remained moist longer.
The biggest surprise was how little runoff Della saw.
Harlan’s overhead irrigation wetted entire surfaces.
Della’s system concentrated a smaller amount near roots.
Harlan walked the plot one evening.
He stopped.
Bent.
Dug with his fingers.
Then crossed into the comparison rows.
Dryer.
He returned.
“How much water did you use this week?”
Della showed him the notebook.
Harlan read the numbers.
“Is this right?”
“I measured twice.”
“Clifton checked.”
Harlan read again.
“You’re delivering less than half what I’d put on this area with the sprinkler.”
Della nodded.
“But it takes longer.”
“Pump takes diesel.”
“This doesn’t.”
“The catchment runs out.”
“I know.”
Harlan looked toward the north draw.
“What if we enlarge storage?”
Della stared.
“What?”
“Not huge.”
“Maybe a lined header pond.”
“Capture runoff when storms come.”
“Feed this section.”
Della smiled slowly.
“You want to extend it.”
“I’m asking whether you want to.”
“Yes.”
Harlan nodded.
“Then make me a plan.”
Della nearly fell over.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m eleven.”
“I noticed.”
“I don’t know how to make a farm plan.”
“Then learn.”
That night, Della sat at Opal’s table until almost midnight.
Opal stayed with her.
No answers unless asked.
Della drew.
Crossed out.
Measured.
Calculated roughly.
The next morning she showed Harlan.
He did not say it was good.
He asked questions.
“How much storage?”
“How much field?”
“How are you keeping sediment out?”
“What if the draw overflows?”
“What happens when algae plugs tape?”
“What if cattle step on the line?”
Della became irritated.
“You said make a plan.”
“This is making the plan.”
“By telling me everything wrong?”
“Yes.”
She glared.
Harlan smiled.
“Welcome to farming.”
Clifton returned officially in September.
He brought a soil-moisture probe.
A flow meter.
And more curiosity than he admitted.
He walked the entire system with Della.
She explained every failure.
Not just the final version.
Clifton liked that.
“Show me where attempt one leaked.”
Della pointed.
“Why?”
“Wrong couplers.”
“Attempt two?”
“Main line too narrow.”
“Other problems?”
“Filter clogged.”
“Twice.”
“Wren opened a valve.”
From behind them, Wren shouted:
“One time!”
Della ignored her.
Clifton measured elevation.
Approximately 9.4 feet from water surface at useful storage level to the lower portion of the test plot.
Pressure remained low.
But because the system used short zones and low-pressure drip tape, it functioned.
Clifton took notes.
“Interesting.”
Della hated that word.
“What?”
“Interesting.”
“Good interesting?”