Brad looked at Ruth.
“You letting her do this?”
Ruth was carrying a five-gallon bucket of water.
“Apparently.”
“You think it'll work?”
Ruth looked at Claire.
Then at the saplings.
“I think she came home with enough student debt that I ought to get something out of the education.”
Everyone laughed.
Even Claire.
Then she planted another tree.
For three days, Brad came by at least once.
For three days, Claire planted.
Hole.
Roots.
Soil.
Water.
Guard.
Stake where needed.
Move on.
By Friday evening, she could barely straighten her back.
Her hands were blistered.
Her shoulders ached.
The line of saplings looked absurdly small against the open field.
Three hundred forty trees sounded impressive.
Three hundred forty twelve-inch sticks did not.
Ruth stood beside her.
“Looks like we planted expensive weeds.”
Claire laughed tiredly.
“Give it time.”
“How much?”
“Years.”
Ruth stared.
“You couldn't have studied something faster?”
The first year was mostly survival.
That was another part people later skipped.
Thirty-seven saplings died.
Some from drought stress.
Some from browsing.
Several because Claire underestimated how aggressively vegetation would compete around them.
One redcedar died for no obvious reason at all.
Claire replaced them.
She weeded.
Watered during dry periods.
Adjusted guards.
Mowed access lanes.
Brad drove by regularly.
By midsummer, many saplings had put on visible growth.
He still laughed.
“Going to be a beautiful windbreak in 2040.”
Claire said:
“Hope you're here to see it.”
That ended the teasing for the afternoon.
James installed simple wind gauges.
Not research-grade weather stations.
Enough to compare patterns.
One near the exposed side.
One at varying distances into the field.
Claire marked fixed points.
She also took soil samples from the field edge and farther inside.
She recorded rainfall.
Crop performance.
Visible erosion.
The first-year data was modest.
Exactly as James predicted.
The little trees were not tall enough to transform the field.
But the grass strip itself reduced bare-soil movement near the boundary.
Winter snow collected differently around the young planting.
Less of it blew clean across the field.
Claire photographed everything.
Dates.
Locations.
Wind direction.
She was not trying to manufacture proof.
She was trying to create a baseline.
That distinction became important later.
Year two brought the first result Brad could see from his truck.
The shrubs thickened.
Some redcedars approached five feet.
The oak remained slower.
Which Claire expected.
The east side no longer looked naked.
During a dry April wind event, dust rose from several neighboring fields.
On Moss Farm, the worst visible movement began farther into the open ground rather than directly at the fence.
The windbreak was still immature.
But it was beginning to interfere with the wind.
James brought Dr. Helen Porter, a university soil scientist, to visit in August.
Helen took samples from multiple locations.
Not just one convenient pair.
Near windbreak.
Midfield.
Outside comparison points.
Different depths.
She warned Claire immediately.
“If you want this to be credible, don't treat every difference as caused by trees.”
“I know.”
“Past management matters.”
“Yes.”
“Topography.”
“Yes.”
“Texture.”
“Yes.”
“Fertilizer history.”
“Yes.”