Once upon a time
everyone of a long-gone people
knew its name.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged haiku, photographs, poetry, weekly-photo-challenge, Yokuts
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged haiku, photographs, poetry, Sulphur Peak, weekly-photo-challenge
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Clara B. Stafford, Effie Hilliard, haiku, photographs, poetry, weekly-photo-challenge
Posted in Photographs
Tagged Butterfly Mariposa Lily, Drought, photographs, White Mariposa Tulip, wildflowers
With drought conditions, the rare and endangered Kaweah Brodiaea bloom is early and rather difficult to find this year. Go HERE for the history of the Kaweah Brodiaea on this ranch or follow the tags below.
In dry times, the gods retreat
to the granite, forsake the clay
and its inhabitants to fashion
spring upon the open slopes
with skiffs of blooming dots
à la Monet—above the dust
rising between green fading
and leaves curling red, it’s not
quite heaven, but enough.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Claude Monet, Drought, flower-friday, photographs, poetry, wildflowers
A skinny but energetic Hispanic
calls me ‘Boss’ before I step out
into the concrete chute of the Ford garage,
hackneyed patronage I ignore while urgently
scanning the lead-up for a familiar face
in a frightening blur of new ownership—
almost forgetting the smog check I came for,
and an upfront inspection for the cause
and cost to repair the feed truck’s
St. Vitus tap dance on the asphalt
at speeds over thirty after a life
on 4-wheel drive dirt, loaded
with hay or towing a gooseneck. Time
for maintenance for the unretired—
Temple Grandin knows I need a hug.
During this drought, we’ve often made the distinction between our granite country at the higher elevations of the ranch, generally above 1,500 feet, and the clay slopes below that. In contrast with the last post, we put out salt and mineral at the Paregien Ranch and checked the feed and fleshiness of our cattle to help determine when we will gather and wean the calves. Obviously it’s another world up there, receiving over 2 inches of rain at the first of the month, and the cattle are doing fine.
Islands of bare, red clay
on shallow green receding—
seeds that never swelled
to root ceramic slopes
or went with clouds
from cloven hooves—
stare back sternly.
She is dry,
nothing left to offer
the eye—only
the lone calf
grazing shores
for the overlooked
knows no better
world than this.
With rain, even lichen
and moss vie for space—
breathe life into a rock.
Hide of a Herford calf
at a distance—red
lichen living on rock.