When the fields are parched and the crops droop, you know it's time to call in this machine.

When the fields are parched and the crops droop, you know it's time to call in this machine.

The corn leaves are curled up like tubes, the bean vines lie flat on the ground, and the vegetable seedlings are withered beyond recognition. You stand at the edge of the field, looking at those once lush green crops, and your heart aches. Half a month of drought, not a single cloud in the sky, the cracks in the ground wide enough to fit a finger. You know that if this continues, this season's harvest is ruined.

Before, in this situation, you could only worry helplessly. Carrying water? A bucket of water wouldn't irrigate many seedlings, and even chafed shoulders wouldn't save many rows of land. Waiting for rain? Nobody can predict the weather. Watching the crops wither day by day, your heart sank with each passing day.

Now it's different. Looking at those drooping leaves, you know it's time to call in this machine. Bring the machine to the edge of the field, lay the hoses in the soil, press the switch, and it roars to life. Soon, water gushed from the pipes, flowing into the fields along the furrows. You squatted at the edge of the field, watching the cracked earth drink in the water, watching the curled leaves slowly unfurl. At that moment, the tension in your heart finally eased.

The machine hummed, the water flowed, and the seedlings stood tall. You no longer needed to fetch water, no longer needed to wait for rain, no longer needed to worry about the crops. You only needed to occasionally glance over to see where the water had gone, to see how the seedlings were drinking. The rest, it did for you.

When the ground was dry, and the crops drooped, you knew it was time to call it in. When it came out, the water came; when the water came, the seedlings survived; when the seedlings survived, your heart was at peace.