Would the plants actually perform better?
Could the tanks hold enough between storms?
Would the emitters clog?
Would algae grow?
Would cattle damage the lines?
Would the system become more trouble than it saved?
Della needed records.
Clifton returned two days later.
He walked the setup slowly.
Looked at the tanks.
The screened inlet.
The oversized main line.
The header.
The low-pressure drip tape.
“Who designed this?”
Della raised her hand.
“I assumed.”
He smiled.
“How much elevation?”
“Nine feet from full tank water surface to highest emitter.”
“Pressure at the header?”
“Two point four psi while flowing.”
Clifton’s eyebrows rose.
“You measured?”
“Yes.”
“Flow?”
She gave him the number.
He asked:
“How much water to the test area per hour?”
Della hesitated.
“I haven’t calculated total yet.”
“Do that.”
He pointed toward the soybean rows.
“And compare it with your father’s sprinkler system.”
Harlan said:
“She already wants to.”
Clifton nodded.
“Good.”
Della began keeping a notebook.
Date.
Weather.
Tank level.
Irrigation duration.
Estimated gallons.
Soil moisture at two depths.
Plant appearance.
Labor time.
Repairs.
Emitter clogs.
Rainfall.
The first week showed another problem.
Sediment.
The rain catchment carried fine organic material into the tanks.
Della had a screen.
Not enough.
Several drip emitters clogged.
She spent an afternoon cleaning lines.
Harlan found her sitting beside the header looking miserable.
“How many?”
“Too many.”
“Why?”
“Dirty water.”
“Solution?”
“Better filter.”
“Cost?”
“I don’t know.”
There it was again.
Every improvement had a price.
Della rode to the farm supply store.
The proper low-flow filter cost more than she had left from egg money.
She returned home without buying it.
That evening, Opal opened an old pamphlet about sand filtration.
Della read.
Then built a crude settling barrel.
Water from the catchment entered one container first.
Heavier debris settled.
A screened outlet fed the storage tanks.
Then an old reusable filter housing Wendell gave her caught finer material.
Not perfect.
Better.
Clogging dropped.
Another problem came from the weather.
No rain for eleven days.
The tanks emptied.
The system stopped.
Della stared at them.
Failure again.
Harlan had warned her the seasonal draw was not a dependable water source.
Della had known.
Knowing did not make empty tanks less disappointing.
The test plot began drying.
On day two, Harlan found her dragging a hose uphill.
“What are you doing?”
“Filling the tank.”
“With pumped pond water?”
“Yes.”
“So now it isn’t gravity-fed.”
“The distribution still is.”
Harlan smiled slightly.
“You changing the rules?”
“No.”
She stopped.
“Maybe.”