All the thirsty hearts
have sucked the dog dish down
beyond the reach of the panting Titmouse,
nervous little bastard bobbing
empty-beaked at his favorite waterhole
below the nozzle, hose and bib
during this two-week heat wave
of highs in the teens, like every summer here
in the San Joaquin.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged heat, photography, poetry, water, weather
We kids would perch upon the shingle shed roof where my grandfather would dry his few errant Tompson Seedless for raisins from his Emperor vineyard outside Exeter, California, careful not to snag our swim trunks on the nails to watch the July 4th fireworks show in town—a perfect ending to family picnics celebrating Independence Day after World War II, a time when our nation’s history was rich with common sense. The lack of it today cannot be blamed on Climate Change.
The majority of California has been identified as a High Risk Fire Area while insurance companies have raised premiums to offset theirs, and PG&E’s, losses in Northern California during 2018’s continuous conflagrations. Today, fire insurance is either cost prohibitive or unavailable to homeowners and businesses that has impacted home loans and values, and subsequently the State’s economy. While fire fighters risk their lives to keep wildfires contained to protect these interests, we’re still selling fireworks even though the State’s population has more than tripled since 1955 to a more urban population that has little hands-on experience. The Emergency Rooms are proof enough.
California has many problems as people and businesses leave the State—new taxation annually and a Governor who can’t decide what he stands for as he heads to Washington to bolster Biden’s nomination, and should he fail, make himself visible and available.
It’s time for the non-profit service organizations, churches, Boy Scouts, etc. to stop selling fireworks as fund raisers, stop adding to the costs of our communities and look into drone shows or other means to celebrate Independence Day, it’s time to outlaw fireworks.
Posted in Ranch Journal
Tagged 4TH of July, California, common-sense, common-sense, family, firework, FIREWORKS, independence-day, insurance-companies
Due to calve this fall, these first calf heifers will be checked with ultrasound tomorrow morning. We introduced the Red Angus bulls in late December, and trust that most are bred judging by the activity since then.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged first calf heifers, photography, Red Angus Bulls
Not enough gold left
in the last of the poppies
as spring fades away.
Posted in Haiku 2024, Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Golden Poppies, haiku, photography, poetry
An exceptional feed year, the grass is thick and a couple of weeks from ripening and turning brown as we prepare to wean our calves for market. It’s been our custom to cut firebreaks with the skid steer between our feed and Dry Creek Road. Last year we had eight arson sets that we were able to minimize with our 500 gallon water wagon. Fortunately, CalFire was able to identify and arrest the arsonists who are now in jail.
Despite our efforts and equipment, the ranch gets no discount for fire insurance premiums. Since PG&E was found culpable for the Northern California fires several years ago, we have found ourselves within the recently mapped High Risk Fire Area in California, and most all our neighbors have been dropped by insurance carriers. It seems apparent that PG&E’s losses and premiums have been spread out over the state. We are now investigating self-insurance for our home.
As a matter of business, insurance companies insure one another for catastrophic losses, and taken to the extreme, may in fact be one insurance company. Last year our insurance costs were 10% of our expenses, but unlike our other tangible expenses like hay and labor, we get only a little peace of mind in return at twice the price, if available.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, Fire, firebreaks, insurance, photography
All the places
I worked and played
too hard
are wearing on me
for this moment
I have trailed
with discarded rhymes
and poetry
even I don’t quite
understand
why I had to kiss
the wild so deeply,
why I had to walk
the fence
and dream beyond
the barbed wire.
Posted in Deck Poems, Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged age, photography, poetry
Occasionally, neighbors become good friends,
and so it’s been with Steve and Jody Fuller, Robbin and I.
I am going to read a short poem that I wrote for them
when my mother was dying in the hospital back in 2010.
LAST NIGHT’S LEFTOVERS
We pray for heart attacks, Mack trucks and lightening
as our way out, trading tales of die-hard mothers
like rattlesnake stories, each triggering another –
pouring wine with whiskey rants to laugh
at the sad truth we can’t improve, can’t make easier,
can’t change, but in ourselves. Out of the rain,
my great bay horse, a bag of bones at thirty,
paws the gate in the barn for more grain – an indignant
impatience I trained for years, my mother’s hands
in mine again. It’s rained five days straight,
blew the barn down, blew a tire in a rockslide,
got a ticket parked too long at the hospital,
and we look up into the gray wanting to escape
town and traffic, find home and recuperate
with neighbors and last night’s leftovers.
– for Steve & Jody
Steve left his mark on the hearts of us all.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2010, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, photography, poetry
Yesterday’s rain
runs in rivulets
towards the creek
across the shoulder
of the road
and growing traffic—
Pond Turtle shell
glistening still
with all the wild
totems we lay claim to
in our joint accounts.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, photography, poetry, POND TURTLE, rain, TOTEMS
Mud from head to toe
before the bus to school,
how could I know
I’d never bring it home—
never be the hero
of black and white westerns.
But a lifetime chasing rainbows
has been enough
without the pot of gold.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, photography, poetry, rain, rainbows, weather
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