Category Archives: Photographs

Echinopsis Oxygona

 

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A one-day bloom
as the hills turn brown again
around Mother’s Day.

 

 

Work of Art

 

VAPOR

 

March 14, 2014

 

Awakened slowly,
drinking promises of rain
with people on time.

 

 

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THE TROUBLE WITH SHARING

 

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Hole in the orchard filled
with leaky water troughs
of asparagus rockets

breaking free. We felled
the cherry tree the borers killed,
corded-up for winter fires.

We shared the crop,
top branches first
we couldn’t reach until

word got out and left us
pits. Damn Orioles
and their bucket mouths.

 

Replacement Heifers

 
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With an eye towards weaning our calves, last week’s tour of the Greasy watershed to check cattle and feed conditions was a pleasant surprise. Typically we begin weaning in mid-May when the grass turns. With less than 0.75” of rain in the last forty-five days, my expectations were minimal. But our upper country above 1,500 feet has fared substantially better than our lower foothills where only patches of green remain high on the north slopes.

Having reduced our cow numbers by 40% due to the ongoing drought, we have found a temporary equilibrium between grass and cattle without having to feed much hay last winter. But due to feed limitations, we were unable to keep any calves last season for replacement heifers. Assuming a return to more normal weather conditions, we will need to replace our older cows while also trying to add numbers to our cowherd. However many heifer calves we’re able to keep, won’t produce a calf to wean for two more years. Rebuilding a cowherd is a slow process. Certainly the three girls above will be candidates, but how many we’re able to keep remains to be seen.

 

TRESPASSING

 
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We look both ways
at the end of the road,
the well-honed edge

of commerce and convenience,
trucks and traffic
across the bridge—

river without water.
In their own world,
some deer forget:

quick scramble of hooves,
a clatter slipping
on concrete and asphalt.

We look both ways
wanting wild cover
and shade, leave

great hearts behind
to trespass
into an urgent world.

 

Killdeer Update

 

 

Keeping track of our cattle is never perfect, but keeping track of the Killdeer, even for a short time, requires so much assumption and speculation that it verges on fiction. Nevertheless, our Killdeer, defending the eggs in her nest, disappeared with her babies for the creek last week. Due to the drought and a creek that hasn’t run much for the past three years, we’ve had only one Killdeer nesting in our gravel driveway so far this spring.

Robbin noted that one of our pair of crows was carrying what appeared to be the white fluff of a Killdeer chick back to their nest earlier this week. We know how it goes, everyone is someone’s breakfast. But yesterday, crossing the remaining puddles in the creek, we found two chicks and an attentive, adult Killdeer in the cobbles and grass.

Getting two out of four to the creek, 200 yards and across the road, is a good percentage when one considers the gopher snake on the prowl for eggs, the crows and a variety of other predators. It’s a leap to assume this is the same Killdeer, but with no others around our driveway to the house, not as far as you might think.

 

OLD DAYS

 

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She could have stayed
longer, spent the night
pelting the roof,
roaring like a river

over boulders, flashing
foothill silhouettes
to cracks of thunder
like in the old days.

 

 

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SHE

 

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It was good to see her,
visiting like a sister
forty days late
with much on her mind.

Never aging and beautiful,
she spent the afternoon
outside in the gray—
left a rainbow behind.

 

JUST A THOUGHT

 

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Never really green with grass,
the south slopes tried to hide the clay,
standing naked in underwear

these past three years. Too late for rain,
precursor clouds let their shadows run
up canyon walls on gusts that stir

our dry flesh, that lift the hair—
each excited follicle reaching
to dance with the thought of rain.

 

Wind Gust—Macro-Monday, Weekly-Photo-Challenge: “Blur”

 

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Easter on Dry Creek is normally green and verdant with skiffs of popcorn flowers and patches of poppies on the hillsides. A month ago, I hoped for a long spring and time to photograph this year’s wildflowers with an eye for their expression as life forms, the evolved complexities of each species’ pollination structure, background lines and colors, etc., etc., but Robbin and I have spent the last three days preparing and planting our summer garden instead. C’est la vie!

 

 

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