Chapter 2: Taking Over the Farm (1)

TL: Hanguk

“What kind of nonsense is that? This house is rented too. Considering your tuition and rent, I have to work without rest. But where would that kind of big money even come from?”

Dad gave me a look that said I was being immature, but I wasn’t bothered. Since it was something a high schooler was saying, of course it would just seem like reckless bravado.

“You don’t need a huge amount of money to take over a farm. Even a very small amount is enough to take over a farm.”

“That’s ridiculous... just focus on studying!”

Dad waved his hand as if to say stop talking nonsense, but I didn’t stop.

“There’s a policy for immigrants!”

“What?”

Only then did Dad properly meet my eyes.

“Listen carefully. The country has a special support system for immigrant farmers. Through a subsidy program for socially disadvantaged groups called SDA (Socially Disadvantaged Applicant), we can receive low-interest support for 45% of the farm price, and a guarantee for a 50% loan from private banks. The money we actually need to prepare is only 5% of the total amount, 5% of the farm’s value. That’s all we need.”

Since I wasn’t just insisting blindly but explaining a clear plan and a convincing system, that was when my parents finally began to listen.

“Something like that exists? It’s really just 5%?”

"That's what I'm saying!"

At that moment Mom stepped in.

“But how much is the value of Redwood Farm? If that 5% is much bigger than the money we have, then we can’t do anything.”

“You’re right, that could happen. But Redwood Farm has declared bankruptcy. Then what do you think the investor feels? Wouldn’t they want to recover at least a little of their investment?”

“I guess... they would?”

“Right now is the perfect time to purchase the farm for far cheaper than its original value. If we actively step up and say we want to take over the farm, the investor will gladly try to sell it, right? Because they’ll want to recover even a bit more of their investment.”

At this point, my parents exchanged a strange look. They were unsure whether this was really true, but also tempted.

But Dad, perhaps because he had failed once before, approached things more cautiously.

“I understand what you’re saying, but there’s a reason the farm went bankrupt. Let’s say we take out loans and take over the farm. But what if the crops fail again? We won’t be able to handle it.”

It was a perfectly reasonable point and in a way it struck at the very core of the issue. But before my regression, I had been someone who earned a doctoral degree in agriculture at Cornell University.

“Dad, I’m studying agriculture professionally at school. You know the school has programs for employment and business, right?”

“Well, I’ve heard about them but...”

“Don’t dismiss it just because it’s taught in high school. They’re teaching the latest farming methods.”

But Dad wasn’t easily convinced.

“You might think so. But do you think John Anderson, the owner of Redwood Farm, went bankrupt because he was stupid? The farm has over 40 years of history and John has been growing grapes for 30 years. A person like that was failed helplessly. If you say you can save the farm with just some techniques you learned in high school, isn’t that looking at the world far too optimistically?”

It was a flawless rebuttal. Because he had failed once, Dad had an extremely realistic point of view.

“Fine. Then after I graduate high school, I’ll go to the University of California, Davis (UC Davis).”

“University of California? Is it a good place?”

Mom tilted her head and asked. Naturally, my parents didn’t know much about that university.

“They teach top-level viticulture and enology in the United States. Mom, you know why Napa Valley is famous for grapes, right?”

"Yes... I didn't know before, but this place is a world-famous for pre... what was it."

“Premium wine.”

When Dad helped her, Mom immediately continued.

“Right, a premium wine production area, right? And the grape variety we pick is... what was it? Karbene Shovinyong?”

“Cabernet Sauvignon.”

“Right, Cabernet Sauvignon. You don’t even care about the farm, so how do you know it so well?”

Of course, at that time I had no interest. I only became interested ten years later.

The special program for immigrant farmers under SDA was also something I learned about only after I became interested in farming.

“I just know. Did you really think I wouldn’t know what Dad and Mom do for a living?”

“Oh my... how admirable. Anyway, that school teaches grape cultivation better than anywhere else in the world?”

“I don’t know about the whole world, but it’s the best in the United States.”

“Ah... then that’s pretty much the whole world.”

“Something like that. Anyway, this opportunity is heaven-sent. California Cabernet Sauvignon is recognized worldwide, and we’ll never again get a chance to acquire a vineyard here in Napa Valley for this cheap.”

Of course, I could say that because I knew the future.

“Hmm... let me think about it first.”

Dad was surely afraid of failing again. Our family had immigrated to the United States because of him, and if we failed again, he would probably fear ending up wandering like a vagrant.

I understood the reason fully, but I couldn’t give up.

“Dad! Please! If we’re even a little late, someone else will take it. Business is all about timing. This opportunity will never come again. Please trust me just this once.”

Dad had probably never seen his son with such a serious expression trying to persuade him. To him, I was always a little rebellious.

“If you go to college and learn farming methods, that’s one thing, but we can’t waste a whole year until then.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take responsibility and revive the farm.”

“You don’t know anything about agriculture!”

“No. During this time... while I was in school, I learned a lot about grape farming. If we miss this chance, we’ll end up working under someone else for the rest of our lives, only earning a salary. If we become farm owners ourselves, the harder we work, the more it becomes ours, and our effort and sweat won’t be wasted. I know how to revive the farm. We must not miss this opportunity.”

Dad fell silent, as if deep in thought, and finally looked at Woo-Seok as though he had made up his mind.

“You’re really confident about grape farming?”

“Yes.”

“Then shall we go to the farm right now and check?”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Seeing his son stand up confidently, Dad was taken aback, but he soon rose as well, went outside, and started the car.

"You're going right now?"

Mom followed us out and asked anxiously, but I got into the passenger seat.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be back soon.”

Since we weren’t going to fight but to visit a vineyard, Mom simply told us to drive safely and sent father and son off.

Dad didn’t say a word the whole way. His mind was surely complicated.

Although the farm had gone bankrupt, it wasn’t closed like a store, so Dad parked near the farm and walked ahead with steady steps.

After walking for quite some time, I, who had once been an agriculture PhD, could tell at a glance that the grapevines were not in good condition. But I didn’t mention what the problems were.

At some point Dad stopped abruptly.

“See that? What do you think caused this?”

Dad asked in front of a grapevine whose branches were slightly longer and taller than the others nearby. On the leaves of the vine, powdery white mold spots had spread thickly, as if dust had been sprinkled over them. That hazy, swollen whiteness stained a piece of the once-lush Vineyard with a grayish gloom.

“It’s powdery mildew.”

Seeing his son give the exact answer the moment he looked at it, Dad flinched in surprise. For the first time, he no longer saw his son as just an immature high school kid.

“That’s right, it’s powdery mildew. Early summer, when the weather becomes even slightly humid or too dry, it spreads easily. It wasn’t the decisive cause of the farm’s downfall, but it was one of the problems that created big trouble. How would you solve it?”

I stepped closer and gently tapped a leaf with my fingertip. The white powder fell softly like dust and slid onto the back of my hand. In that moment, I recalled the ‘imperfect grape cell structure’ I had seen under a microscope in the lab when I was forty-six.

“You might think we can just spray pesticide... but it can be cured very easily.”

“What? How?”

I looked over the wide Vineyard once and then spoke calmly.

“One cup of milk per tree. And ten cups of water. Mix it in that ratio and spray it on the vines. When it reacts with sunlight, it causes oxidation in the fungal hyphae. We’ll probably need a lot of milk.”

Dad’s eyes shook intensely.

“Is that real? Milk instead of pesticide?”

“Yes. And if you mix natural sulfur powder with water and spray it, it prevents the fungal spores from germinating. It lasts well too. Baking soda is also used as a supplement.”

“You...”

I looked straight at Dad, who stared at me with wide, unbelieving eyes, and spoke seriously and firmly.

“So please trust me now. If you trust me, I’ll make sure we harvest the best Cabernet Sauvignon here in California’s Napa Valley.”