I can’t stand it. It’s like killing off one baby to ensure the survival of the other, but which one do I choose? The eldest? the youngest? The strongest? The tallest? Agony, guilt, it’s all there and finally, when you pluck up your courage, close your eyes and do the deed, there are thousands of others waiting to be cast out of the gene pool in order to achieve a vinous master race. Cuvee Aryan here we come. (Well it is Chardonnay.)
Yes! Well kind of. You just have to connect a suction hose from the dam to a huge pump complete with doser unit, anti-syphon and space age controller; then connect that to the 3 zone solenoid switch unit, (one of which the cows stood on) and then bury 2 x 150m x 2″ polypipe (why does it come in length by the metre but diameter by the inch?) followed by around 250m of 1″ poly which then needed to be replaced with 2″ as it couldn’t deliver enough volume into which you drill 85 holes, insert 85 grommits plus take-offs to short lengths of 16mm tube (aha! It doesn’t all come in inches then?) with no holes which you then join to 9km of 16mm dripper hose, turn the thing on and VOILA! Water comes out. See? Simple!
While we have had plenty of rain and soil moisture is good, I am still anxious to get the irrigation up and running. When it dries off it will do so quickly, even if the Bureau aren’t quite forecasting El Nino conditions.
So the team are out again, running dripper lines as fast as they can go. If only I could get my dog Barney to drag them down the hill it would save me some serious k’s. Mind you, I get a good look in every single vine guard while I am doing so.