On the weather map,
a week of storms
four days out
turned down
to a heavy mist
to quell the flames
before the downpour,
wind and rain—
a tame disrobing
before a shower
of leaves that leave
the road between
barbed wire fences
full to the hubcaps
with bedclothes.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged dancing nymphs, fall, sycamores, winter
Show starts at two
across the road
with wind and rain—
girls shedding
enflamed leaves
in a slow strip tease
of fire exposing
long white limbs
in a chorus line
of dancing nymphs
along the creek
all ready to go
skinny-dipping
come hell
or high water.
Vanity is absence.
– Wendell Berry (“Praise”)
Within the unfolding
Be here!
among waves of leaves
shed like rain
for a moment
of poetry—
somewhere other than
distant histories
and posed reflections.
Be here!
to witness miracles
while the mundane dance
within the grace
of animated metaphors
in the half-light
of dusk and dawn.
Be here!
on our knees
bringing life
with gentle breath
to dry twigs
upon dying coals—
to shadows melting
around our fire.
A series of seasons unfolding,
we chase the sun, pray for rain,
year after year—no two the same
in this canyon that sustains us,
trains habits and hones senses
into instincts like horses have,
like the wild wears with first breath
until the last for generations
in the same place—we know
this hard, yet resilient, ground:
clay and decomposing granite
dust mixed like concrete
with green seeds, given rain.
Waiting we become the place
and praise its perseverance.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015
Tagged generations, instincts, perseverance, place
With the help of mostly the same neighbors every year, our branding at the Paregien Ranch is special. The year it snowed, or the year we couldn’t see across the branding pen in the fog, or Kenny and Virginia McKee eating a hamburger afterwards under their ponchos as the rain came down so hard we weren’t sure we would get off the mountain.
Adding to the branding’s uniqueness, two Blue Oaks grow in the middle of the branding pen—good shade, but potentially dangerous obstacles that require control of your horse and the calf on a short rope. Of all the oaks that have died during our prolonged drought, these two thrive. Every year we discuss removing one or both, but plans to improve these corrals will incorporate one of them within a new panel fence.
Also, our brandings are fairly tame, and small, with less calves than usual this year with our reduced number of cows. And we go slowly, one calf down at a time with most of us up in years enough to draw Social Security. “Old people slow,” I apologized to Doug Thomason after his first day helping us five or six years ago.
“I like slow,” he replied matter-of-factly.
And we’re all happy with that.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Doug Thomason, neighbors, Old People Slow, Paregien Branding
Correcting yesterday’s post, Sawtooth Peak: far right, Castle Rocks: middle, Case Mountain: almost bare.
It’s a shame that we can no longer click to enlarge the photos. When I get time, I’ll investigate as to whether this a WordPress or Coraline theme issue.
Posted in Photographs
Looking over Dry Creek and Kaweah River watersheds to the Kaweah and Sawtooth Peaks on my way down from the Paregien Ranch with a Kubota load of oak after gathering cows and calves to brand on Tuesday. Beautiful Sunday, but accumulated snow is light. Talk of the long-awaited El Niño influence is sounding surer from local weathermen as they predict rain for Thursday-Friday and Sunday-Monday.
We have lots of choices to begin our branding season, but opted for the climb up the hill to the Paregien Ranch in case we get a series of rains that might make our road impassable. Here we go!
Alive, up-canyon ridges grip like fingers
into the creek bed, pulling from either side,
tearing flesh in a flowing furrow slowing
near the river, spreading fines in the flats
mixed and gathered from granite peaks
where natives search for signs of rain—
for hope, for the ultimate escape
to sit and talk with all gone on before,
to watch the earth unfold—to perhaps
even walk with gods. No allure
of alabaster shine or golden thrones
beyond the clouds compels the wild
heart or the keen eye, satisfied
with working for a woodstove
or making shade to shed a rain.
