Thirty percent loss likely in one field.
Possibly forty-five in another.
More if heat continued.
The Young Farm Woman’s projected loss was lower.
Not zero.
She had pollination problems in some sections.
Heat caused kernel abortion.
The clover could not cool the atmosphere.
Her crop was damaged.
Just less.
The Older Farmer learned that through the extension specialist.
Strangely, it made him feel better.
Not because he wanted her to suffer.
Because the reality felt understandable again.
She had not defeated weather.
She had reduced vulnerability.
That seemed possible.
He drove to her farm.
The Young Farm Woman was replacing a broken fence staple.
He stood nearby.
“I owe you an apology.”
She kept hammering.
“For which year?”
He laughed once.
“Fair.”
She drove the staple.
Then looked at him.
He removed his cap.
“I shouldn’t have pulled your clover.”
“No.”
“I shouldn’t have talked about your father like that.”
“No.”
“And I shouldn’t have assumed you were doing something stupid because I didn’t understand it.”
The Young Farm Woman leaned against the post.
“That’s the important one.”
“I figured.”
She studied him.
“You still think clover is a bad idea?”
He surprised her.
“Sometimes.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
He frowned.
“You expected me to convert?”
“I’d be worried if you did.”
“Why?”
“Because it isn’t right everywhere.”
The Older Farmer looked toward the field.
“So what do you think is right everywhere?”
“Pay attention.”
He became quiet.
She continued.
“To soil.”
“Water.”
“Costs.”
“Results.”
“Things that disagree with you.”
The Older Farmer smiled faintly.
“That last one directed at me?”
“Yes.”
He put his cap back on.
“Good apology wasted.”
He began walking away.
She called after him.
“You want to see the records?”
He stopped.
Then turned.
“Yes.”
That evening, they sat at the Young Farm Woman’s kitchen table.
The same table where she first read her father’s notebook.
She placed three years of records between them.
The Older Farmer looked overwhelmed.
“You did all this?”
“Yes.”
“Every week?”
“Mostly.”
He turned pages.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t trust my eyes.”
He looked up.
“What does that mean?”
“People see what they want.”
“If I wanted clover to work, I’d notice every good thing.”
“If I hated it, I’d notice every problem.”
“So you measure.”
“Yes.”
He found Year One.
Yield reduction.
Competition.
Failure notes.
He looked surprised.
“You wrote that it hurt yield.”
“In that block.”