Wordless Wednesday
Rare harmony, the grays and greens
spill off the hills like stringed music
in the gloaming, naked oaks in granite,
cows and calves bent to new grass
step slowly mowing earth and rain
at work in the bright of day and night.
Like sea tides rising, each blade eager
twists towards the moon in cool darkness,
drawn to listen to heaven’s basic chords.
A wild sound is playing now outside
while waiting for a cloud, for the strum
of winter storms to prolong the song.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016, Ranch Journal
Tagged Calves, cows, grass, photography, poetry, weather, wildlife
And note this, dear dead doctor:
When we sleep, our legs twitch,
And not from the hunt
But from trying to run away.
– Gary Soto (“Dr. Freud, Please”)
A Red Tail pair in Blue Oak tops, buff breasts bared
glow at first light, watch over their dark shoulders
as I feed hay, speak to horses, winter mornings
to wonder about the everyday routines that tie us
to animals, to a place and time by the sun. The deer
would lay down where the barn stands now
over a shrinking stack of bales, a short walk
to metal mangers as I look back through the eyes
of the house to see you moving to the woodstove,
curls of Manzanita smoke disappear into the gray.
We have camped in the trail between canyons of wild
pad and hoof, claimed the space they walk around
and would take back should we be gone for long
without our habits holding what we’ve done together,
together—for this moment we hold our ground.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016
Tagged Dry Creek, Gary Soto, Home, partnerships, photography, poetry, wildlife
It could be spring in November
waiting for a rain, yet we worry
about weather we can’t control—
complain to gods we have invented:
separate specialists leaving signs
we let tease and disappoint us
within the space we vest our lives.
But the Glory Hallelujah chorus
roars when it storms off every hillside,
pours down draws. Yet beneath dark sky
duals of thunderbolts, heavens at war,
we cherish our electric helplessness
and raise a glass to Gods all.
It could be spring in November, or
another religion for which we ride.
It’s still easy to get lost for a little while
on cow trails leading to water beyond
outcrops of lichen-stained fractured rock
and the thick draws of tunneled Manzanita
that claw the flesh and bleed the will
to find yourself OK with the dialogue
in your mind as you name landmarks
and give them meaning. You should hear
whispers from the old men you remember,
words from birds and see both grace
and fright in dancers engrained in place,
rooted in what remains of another world.
I turn away, blinded by November’s
first light, Redbud hearts enflamed
with last season’s feed on green
burning yellows between dark shadows
with the news, with disbelief.
I retreat to calm counsel with cattle:
scattered pairs, calves fresh with life
finding legs to fly—buck and run
figure-eights without direction always
circling back, showing off for mom.
We will work the heifers anyway—
give them everything we can
to make them attractive to Wagyu,
their first bulls. And we will wait,
as we always do, for rainy days.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016
Tagged Calves, cows, photography, poetry, politics, rain, weather
Hide-outs saved for sane
discussions, always listening
between short sentences
for advances within the dry
and brittle skeletons of spring—
we could forever be nervous
deer on the rebound, come back
to ricochet within a shrinking
wild that we have helped consume.
On the outskirts, perhaps
we feel it now approaching, wind
the scent of human arrogance
surrounding us, that we succumb to
out of necessity knowing
we’re headed in the wrong direction.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016
Tagged Paregien Ranch, photography, poetry, wildlife
Heading into winter, black cows yet fat
sucking calves—damp, thick-piled green after rain—
everyone is clean and shiny off the hill, parading
to water early to laze in the shade. Pages
of poetry shuffle across a desk messy with business,
an untitled collection scattered and spread,
collected and clipped faraway in my head
from our family of cows, from short remarks:
our song of words and phrases overflowing
with the water troughs at Windmill Spring,
spilling too spontaneously to require editing.
We needed to collaborate, to escape the loud
and demanding devils too close to home.
In this place, we are blessed with native eyes
and forgotten tongues—where we can relate
long poems in the luxury of untamed silence.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016, Ranch Journal
Tagged Calves, cows, Paregien Ranch, photography, poetry, weather
As recollections fade, I’m careful not to claim the recent as the biggest or the best of anything, but this past week’s germination of grass is as thick as any I can recall. How well it will endure the above-average temperatures predicted to push 80 degrees for the next ten days remains to be seen—no rain in sight.
Yesterday, Robbin and I made the Kubota trip to the Paregien Ranch with salt, mineral and the last protein lick until next summer while checking the cows, calves, and the rain gauge: 1.44”. More like spring than fall, our new green grass, even at a higher elevation of 2,200 feet, has begun to usurp our ample old feed. Cow numbers light due to the heavy culling during the drought, we haven’t had to supplement these cows with alfalfa yet this year—a good thing. It will take two or three ‘normal’ seasons before we get our cow numbers close to a sustainable capacity again, unwilling to buy non-native cows that take at least two years to finally acclimate to this ranch and cycle regularly.
Checking cattle once a week, the Kubota has become so familiar on the Paregien Ranch that wildlife are seldom startled. With tall feed and cover, we haven’t seen many deer in the past six months. It was reassuring to see that the Blacktail buck above had survived hunting season, now in rut and somewhat oblivious to our presence. With a doe and fawn grazing acorns, he was more content to rest in the shade than leave.
Early mornings cool and talking firewood earlier in the week, we came off the hill with a load of dry Manzanita.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged cattle, Paregien Ranch, photography, weather, wildlife