They know the way—
only need a cowboy to
open and close the gates.
(After weaning, July 28, 2012. Enlarge to see the silhouette of a cowboy in the dust.)
Looking between their ears
watching the business
on the ground stretched
and rolled for needles, knife
and iron, the mesmerizing
dance of humans ‘round
a calf to be turned back
into a jungle of Poison
Oak and Manzanita,
the impassable wilds
of Woolly Canyon
it took four days to gather—
all done in an instant.
Little progress here,
but no less futile
than punching a clock
where time is money
and the earth is flat.
Not a good sign for us that our asphalt connection to the outside world has received more attention during this past year with more non-sense emanating from town, reflective reminders, spaced every tenth of a mile, that nothing ever stays the same.
Shortly thereafter, Dry Creek Road got its first double-yellow line for its initial eight miles to where the pavement becomes too narrow to accommodate a vehicle either side of it, false hope for tourists taking the backway to Sequoia-Kings Canyon National Park towing fifth-wheels with no place to turn around. The most recent signage also suggests sharing the road with bicyclists. Tricky business when the latest fine for crossing over the double-yellow line was $350.
Then a white fog line painted on and off the dirt. Thank you Tulare County government, dollars well spent!
Ever-hopeful and in anticipation of tomorrow’s rain, I took a few photos of today’s feed conditions, intending to concentrate on the filaree, having turned red a week or so ago in places, then purple and brown. A miraculous and extremely strong non-native cattle feed, it is the predominant species in dry years. With good moisture, it can come back to life and turn green again. With less than 4” of rain and only about 30 days left in our rainy season that averages about 16” annually, the grasses never really germinated completely, resulting in a mosaic pattern almost everywhere today.
Just through the fence that separates our driveway from the pasture, I wanted a good shot of where the filaree had turned a purplish brown, only to draw one of the Roadrunners nesting in some nearby Prickly Pear cactus, closer.
All the poetry
out of dark closets
spread like dandelion seed
on a gust, pages floating
to fertile landings
in the disturbed ground
to take root, unfold
each bud into a blaze
of flowers, and so on.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Anisocoma acaulis, haiku, photography, poetry, Scalebud, wildflowers