It’s been years since
we circled the section
of steep pasture between
the creek and Antelope Valley,
reading tracks and trading
memories of battling bucks—
the merge of gathers
spinning in a blur
of wild oats.
It’s how the ground reminds us
who we were and who we are
once again.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, memories, partners, photography, poetry
We’ve enjoyed the striking colors of the dahlias and zinnias in the garden during a relatively mild summer this year, with bouquets of both inside and out of the house. They have drawn a host of Monarch Butterflies after a bountiful year for the Showy Milkweed in our upper country. What great weather to wait for a rain!
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, Monarch Butterfly, photography, weather, zinnia
With coffee or cocktails, the tree frogs have kept us amused on the deck with death defying leaps off the table and railing, or this one at home in a dahlia that Robbin picked and stuck in a flower pot of chives.
I am lost to the race, off course
to pause among the tree frogs
headed home to flower pots
after a night on the window glass
below the porch light
ambushing moths. Or the quail
bailing from the grapefruit tree
at first light to awakening titters
before scanning for hawks.
There is no itch for riches
or the prizes advertised
at the Finish Line.
Posted in Deck Poems, Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry
Tagged Finish Line, photography, poetry, quail, the race, tree frogs
Dew dampened dust, softened wild oat stems,
petrichor on a downcanyon breeze at four
in the black morning that smells like rain
just around the corner in October. I check
the 10-day forecast, craving a storm like always,
but content to paint the gray, slow drip
off roof and limb. Nothing but hurricanes
busy elsewhere as the planet goes to hell
as if the very End were near, knocking
on the door to who knows what
or which tragic prediction or wretched
explosion will engulf and fling
our fractured souls to the solar burn pile.
Dew dampened dust, softened wild oat stems,
petrichor on a downcanyon breeze.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged community, forecast, petrichor, photography, poetry, rain, very END, weather
songs that
without an us there’s no reason for a me.
– George Perreault “walking the dry ditch”)
Coyotes touching bases across the canyon’s canyons
shatters distance within the black, primal intonations
that combat loneliness and comfort the flesh.
The dogs have learned to howl with lyrics of their own
to claim their space, protect their home. Each octave
of our quartet has a name in the dark.
Today, there’s no excuse to be without music,
to swim away with joy and pain from phones
that lift us, that practice and test ascension
for when the time comes. How I admire
and envy its makers, how I sing along
as if no other reason for a me.
With all the hoopla surrounding Climate Change and the approaching El Niño, suddenly the world is focused on the weather and a myriad of conflicting scientific observations and conclusions, heretofore ignored by most in the past. But for those of us involved in grazing livestock and dependent on the bounties of Mother Nature, October is the beginning of our rainy season as we try to look ahead into our futures.
Historically, “The Old Farmer’s Almanac” has offered as accurate a forecast as any:
PACIFIC SOUTHWEST
November 2023
4° below average
Precipitation 5” (1” below average)
December 2023
4° below average
Precipitation 3” (4” below average)
January 2024
3° below average
Precipitation 5” (1” below average)
February 2024
2° above average
Precipitation 6.5” (2” above average)
March 2024
3° above average
Precipitation 1.5” (2.5” below average)
April 2024
2° above average
Precipitation 5” (1.5” above average)
May 2024
2° above average
Precipitation 0.5” (1.5” below average)
June 2024
1° below average
Precipitation 0.05” (1” below average)
For what it’s worth, the rain total comes to 27”, well above our 15” average. We’ll just have to wait and see.
Posted in Ranch Journal
Tagged climate change, Drought, Dry Creek, El Niño, forecast, Old Farmer's Almanac, rain, weather
No point waiting for a rain to start the green
until October, and even then it’s blasphemy
to pray or say the word out loud to anyone—
especially with El Niño mapped and gathering
off shore, lapping Jeffer’s granite with warm waves
of poetry—just load and feed the hay like always.
No point worrying about the news a thousand miles away
or all the hobgoblins waiting in ambush down the road
littered with deceptions and diversions, lust and greed
to greet you—just load and feed the hay like always.
Posted in POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, El Nino, feed hay, news, photography, poetry, politics, rain, weather
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