February 10, 2016, 75°, big calves, great crew. Thank you, Earl!
We grow wild beneath
the Red Tail’s cry
for company, beside
the dragging sound
of snake bellies
on well-drained dirt.
We fold our petals, sleep
to insistent tree frog songs
as the moon dances
upon the rippling creek,
mumbling constantly
of where it comes from.
And when we bloom,
we draw bugs as lovers
to inspire seed, clusters
of small town colors
beneath the Red Tail’s cry
for company.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016, Ranch Journal
Tagged Red Tail, Ridenhour Canyon, seed, tree frogs, white lupine, wild
We, all of you with me,
travel miles of spring saved
by a thunderstorm—Jeffers’
old violence not too old
to beget new values—
blinding splotches of gold,
bright pancake poppies
a squinted eye can’t absorb.
We are rich, wealthy in places
we cannot spend away
from here, yet want to take,
steal with a camera
to share with the poor
punching clocks, chasing dollars
in corrals they have built.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016, Ranch Journal
Tagged "The Bloody Sire", Ridenhour Canyon, Robinson Jeffers, wildflowers
Somewhere upstream it rained hard on clay ground early Thursday morning, rainfall amounts varied drastically. We received 0.44” at the house. Two miles downstream received only 0.22”. Rain and hail three miles upstream amounted to 1.2” in this latest storm event. When the photo was taken around noon yesterday, Dry Creek was flowing at 28 cfs, a far cry from 542 cfs on January 31, 2016. No rain in the forecast until the end of this month.
According to El Niño experts, all the elements for a wet spring are still in place despite our dry and warmer than average February. Parts of California have fallen behind average rainfall amounts as the state hasn’t quite shaken the pattern set by four years of drought. Most of the Sierra snow below 7,000 feet that came at the end of January is gone with temperatures ranging in the mid-to-upper 70s this month.
What March and April will bring is anyone’s guess, but the current trend is dry. For those of us in the business of harvesting grass with cattle, it’s not so much about how much it rains, but when—timing is everything. Any accumulation of snow for Valley agricultural surface water users diminishes as we go forward with little or no significant increase in groundwater recharge.
At this point in time, El Niño has kept us alive, but hasn’t erased the impacts of four years of drought.
Crown on ice
waiting for a rain
in a water glass
for me and this
yellow pad
to storm black ink,
prolong spring
with fresh metaphors
for resilience.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016, Ranch Journal
Tagged Crown Reserve, poetry, rain, rainbow
Crayons in a child’s hands,
spring is eager to scribble color
upon a greening page,
blue skies without the gray
curlicue cloud-loads of rain—
or like an old woman wise
with too many pots on the fire,
hurried in aromatic steams
to feed us all at once
before summer takes over
our lives. Like cattle pausing
at the gate after trailing flakes
of hay, we are suspicious,
we are afraid supper’s over
before spring has been served
by our idle consideration
that swims in awe of a miracle
we crave the time to digest.
No roses, no chocolates, we left Dry Creek early to make the 45 minute trek to Mankin Flat to brand Craig Ainley’s calves. We were in and out of the clouds all day long and made it off the hill just before dark. Robbin manned the ‘point and shoot’ on the way up and between vaccinations. Fine calves with the fine company of neighbors, but needless to say, no one went to town for a romantic dinner.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal