The Year Money Grew on Trees - Aaron Hawkins [41]
Amy was never really happy with our first main ditch, and Sam, Michael, and I were forced to dig it deeper with shovels for the next two months. Our hands became thick with calluses, and as we dug we would refer to Amy as "the ditch witch."
After a few rounds, watering became pretty routine and floods a rarity. Eventually, I was as good at starting the siphon hoses as Amy, although she would never admit it. We even dug a couple of shallow trenches into our yards and would flood my mom's lawn once a week. She said it never looked greener, and my dad said it had never looked cheaper. Sometimes we would take off our shoes and walk around barefoot in the water splashing each other. Almost like we were kids.
Chapter 10
Poison Showers
I was feeling pretty confident after our first successful round of watering. I had even stomped up to Mrs. Nelson's door with muddy shoes to show her the little beginnings of apples on a branch I had pulled off.
"I think we figured it out," I said, telling her about the watering. "Just a matter of time now for these apples."
"That's nice," she said, looking at the branch. There was none of the enthusiasm she had showed toward the blossoms.
My parents were equally ambivalent. They didn't seem to realize how incredible it was for a bunch of kids to figure out irrigation, no matter how difficult I made it sound. The one adult I hoped might appreciate our success was Brother Brown. I cornered him after Sunday school again.
"We got those trees watered after all," I said. "Even figured out our plow." I had a proud grin on my face and was hoping to hear some congratulations.
Brother Brown looked me up and down. "You get those trees sprayed yet?" he croaked out.
My face fell. "Sprayed with what?"
"Somethin' to kill the worms."
"What worms?" I paused to think if I had read about worms. "Are they really that bad? Do you have to kill 'em?" I asked, my voice getting higher as I spoke.
"Not if you like sharin' your apples with 'em."
It was one unpleasant surprise after another with these apples. "What am I supposed to do about it? Can I watch you do some spraying?" I asked.
"Nah. Go down to General Supply. Tell 'em you want something for worms."
"But then what?"
"They'll help you. And you're smart."
He walked off with all my confidence. Back home I looked over the pages I had copied from the apple book. There were a few things about bugs and larva, but I hadn't written anything too specific. I began to remember, though, that the book had talked about natural and chemical ways to kill bugs. At the time I had tried to ignore that part, hoping it was something I wouldn't have to deal with. Bugs seemed like a bigger problem for people living in swamps than on New Mexican plateaus.
I remembered, too, that natural bug control sounded good to me. The book had talked about using ladybugs and things like that. How could I be sure, though, that the Haslam guy who wrote it had ever raised his own apples? The only person I knew who had was Brother Brown. And if he used something from General Supply, that was probably the way to go. Getting fancy with ladybugs might be risky.
I explained to my cousins that we needed to make a trip to investigate worm spraying.
"Let me guess how you think we're getting there," said Amy with a frown. "If it's on the tractor, I'm not going. You can take one of these two with you. They don't have a reputation to worry about."
I would definitely have preferred her. "So who wants to go with me?" I asked the boys.
"Me!" they both said in unison.
That started an argument about why I didn't want to keep track of them both. A coin flip followed, along with a promise to the loser that they would get to go the next time.