Water

The dry harvest is winding down.  It is picturesque, a line of reaping machines wending its way across a vast open space, boxes strewn in the fields, helicopter lifts, but it is inefficient.  Work cannot be started until the dew dries in the morning.  No work at all on rainy days.  Many berries get left on the plants.  It only pays off if the harvested fruit can command a "fresh fruit" premium at the buyers'.  If there is too much damage from bugs or rot, the premium is lost.  Relying on outside support, like a helicopter service, introduces another uncertain variable.  Uncertain variables tend to increase costs.

It is time to go in the water.

Water is good.  You can start earlier, you can work right through a rainy day, and more berries are freed from the vines. 

But you need water.

For days the pumps have been running.  They are everywhere.  They are in the picturesque pump houses, there are caterpillar tractors, there are diesel engines on flat beds standing naked by the fields.  Fat hoses fill to their full thickness.  Water spews out of conduits.  Water spills over dam tops.  Water is whipped by the winds off the bogs and down the trails.  The ducks and geese and swans have broad new homes.  The frogs are hopping and swimming, no longer confined to the ditches.

There is water everywhere, there is light everywhere, the berry pools are coming.

First Flood

Eager Beaver

Water Forms