Farm irrigation: I love it when things work.

Feel free to skip this post.

It isn't about politics. It isn't even about my vineyard. 

It is about the little problems farmers encounter. And their quiet pleasure when thing work as they should.

It is about the pleasant sounds of an irrigation system. 

Medford, Oregon has a Mediterranean climate. We have cool wet winters. That means that there is a green lushness to the local plants. But then we have a hot, dry summer. The lush plants expect and need water. It takes irrigation.

I liken irrigating to a father bottle-feeding his infant. A farmer is the caretaker for vulnerable plants and I get the same feelings of nurturing that I felt about settling down and feeding my hungry infant. I am a caregiver and nurturer.

Sometimes the baby is fussing for some reason other than hunger. That is why there is a sense of relief when giving the baby a bottle and sucking starts. The baby is happy; problem solved. You don't always know. Sometimes it's something else, something unknown, and the baby stays fussy.

Irrigation systems have many points of potential failure. There could be a lack of water at the water source. The water there could be gritty or have plant material, and when pumped, it fouls  the lines. The foot valve -- the part of the irrigation line in the water -- may have problems being fully submerged when it is in a shallow ditch, and therefore draw air. The pump motor may not start, or keep working when started. There may be leaks at the joints of the distribution line. The sprinkler heads may be stuck in an open or closed position for some reason. The sprinkler heads may be fouled by grit sucked up from the ditch. The spray from the sprinkler heads may not cover the ground needing irrigation.  

And this litany of problems starts with a premise that one has all the water rights and other legal requirements, including the right to pump that water, the right to pump it from the place you want to pump it, the right to access that place, the right to put that water where you want to irrigate, and the ability to measure and report what you are pumping, if required, and the ability to show that that water came from flowing water, which you can use, not ground water, which you cannot. (Those issues are all fine for me, so I ignored them in listing points of failure, but they are big, big deal-killers for lots of farmers.)

Yesterday's irrigation was as good as it gets. My pump is in a good spot, with ample water, and the foot value is secured under water by a rock that holds it down. The water is clear of silt and debris. The distribution lines have little leaks at the joints, but they are minor and unimportant. I am running ten sprinkler heads, which cover the ground I want to irrigate. I moved the pipes 50 feet across the field from where I had irrigated the day prior, and everything moved and reattached easily. My nephew poured ethanol-free gasoline into the tank without incident. He pulled the starter cord exactly once. Once! (I love this Honda pump.) The Honda motor started, making the choked-engine sound as it ran. After two seconds my nephew moved the choke lever from ON to OFF, and the engine sped up and made the everything-running-great humming sound it makes while the pipes fill up. After 30 seconds the line filed up, the seals on the pipe closed, the sprinkler heads started spraying water. There was now pressure against the pump so the pump motor sound adjusted again. This time it made the all-pressured-up-everything-working-routinely sound.

If this always worked so perfectly , there would be no sense of relief. This time everything worked.

I have two short videos, each about seven seconds. The first is what a happy pump sounds like. Hummmmmmmmmmmmm. It is a nice sound, an everything-is-OK sound.  Enjoy.

Click Here: YouTube

The second video captures what sprinkler heads sound like as they go chi, chi, chi, chi, chi, chi. The pump motor is audible faintly about 200 yards away.

Click Here: YouTube

Feeding my infant son was one of the quiet, simple pleasures in my life. That experience is gone, but new ones arise in their place.

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