
Book: https://www.westernfolklife.org/shop/portraits-of-the-gathering-by-kevin-martini-fuller

The high clouds had given way to sunshine by the time we finished branding a little bunch of calves in Greasy yesterday. Well off the road, it’s a luxury to be among good friends and neighbors who are exceptional help, folks who know how to make the work fun.
Though dusty, there’s a little more green showing at this elevation (2,200’) where we have received 1.72” of rain thus far this season, much like the beginning of the 2013-14 drought year where we had less than 1.5” of rain in Greasy through the month of January. Our 10-day forecast is dry.


Leaving the feed grounds for the ridge tops with their first calves, native cows know where the green comes first after a little rain softens the clay for cloven hooves and the climb up. These are not dumb welfare cows that we have raised and fed for months— but smart survivors to make us proud.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, green, intelligence, little rain, native cows
How could we know the plans of goddesses and gods with so much going on, busy saving and taking lives, sorting souls amid this Covid, while tilting the West out of range of the good storms— bare acres everywhere you go. If even a shower could bring some green, cattle market’s gone to hell. With everybody begging for change, the pipeline may be plugged with prayer overload, or perhaps our deities are just teaching a lesson.
Posted in Poems 2021
Tagged Covid-19, Drought, goddesses and gods, Mayfield Parrish, prayer overload, The Garden of Allah

Even a rattlesnake knows when to retreat— half-a-dozen quick hide-a-ways at his mental fingertips. Who wants to know the latest detail of the same old news, only to recognize ourselves in Chekhov’s mirror? Soap opera or box, all the bad actors stage left and right look like possums in the headlights. Weary-washed with waves of news, a man could drown and sink to the bottom— but even a rattlesnake knows how to swim.

Some come quickly now, a phrase to trigger more coiled upon the ground while others hibernate for days, for weeks and months, as if they might be dead without the touch of rain— that hard and brittle mindset to survive like deep-rooted filaree with all its colors, with all its seed waiting for a kiss. I know no other way to pen prosody.
Posted in Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged congruency, creative process, earth, evolution, filaree, inspiration, nature, wild, writing poetry

Small promise in the dawn’s empty clouds, more spiritual than stormy or wet, forecast moisture shrinks the closer we get to one more year of praying through a drought— another season of small marvels and miracles where epiphanies and wonders rise from this thirsty earth before our eyes to ease each day’s concerns for survival. We are so blessed with these wild diversions from ample grass and fat cattle that we begin to think that dry is normal and greet the New Year with resolution.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021
Tagged Drought, epiphanies, marvels, miracles, New Year, resolution, wild diversions

There is comfort here among dear friends, despite the drought, despite the news, despite a virus that grips the world somewhere below these old corrals where we brand calves—our common religion around Christmastime that we wrap ourselves within— a joyous insulation from despair where we can lend a hand.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2020, Ranch Journal
Tagged branding calves, community, old friends, Paregien Ranch