
Among the old timers
I tried my hand at similes
after a good slow rain
when it was warm and wet enough
to start the grass, they'd say
“thick as hair on a dog’s back.”

Among the old timers
I tried my hand at similes
after a good slow rain
when it was warm and wet enough
to start the grass, they'd say
“thick as hair on a dog’s back.”
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged photography, poetry, rain, weather

1.
Honed peaks and ridges
cut the clear blue sky
and lagging cumulus rising
between storms,
as we await the tail
of a Bomb Cyclone
predicted for our metal roof
with coffee before daylight—
or so we pray.
2.
Slow in—slow out.
Gray clouds clinging
to the hillsides,
four hundredths all day—
58 high,
52 low after
an all-night soaker
with little runoff
to start the grass.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged photography, poetry, rain, weather

We trust the rain,
the early stirring of colored leaves,
our synapses electrified
before it leaks from the gray—
storms absorbed, the darkening
of settled dust as the wet thatch
of old feed folds
to hold the damp explosion
of open-handed cotyledons—
renewed miracles of life,
iridescent greens become tall
heads heavy with seed
to feed ourselves and others,
the wild and tame, crazed and sane
denizens of this planet.
We trust in rain.
We pray for rain
and wait.
Posted in Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged photography, poetry, rain, weather

Hunter’s Supermoon – Photo: Robbin’s I-Phone
Inhaling darkness spiked with chilled silence
soothes the synapses, spares the soul
with deep breaths released to space
beyond this combative planet and its grumbling
eruptions, its mindless explosions
of patriotic hatred. Ingesting the cool blackness
purifies a moment, relief on an early morning
clean slate to begin with, to try again
to write something worth reading.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Hunter's Moon, photography, poetry, Supermoon

With so many holes in my memory
what remains seems like yesterday.
I jettisoned the shameful first,
then turned the irrational loose
to make room for the moment
before it slips away.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Cord McKee, memory, moment, photography, poetry

It sounds like a drug
for the infirmed
or a dressing for horses’ hooves
or a government program
to keep poverty alive
and consuming—
it sounds soothing
to the summer-baked subconscious,
a galactic reprieve
before the leaves rain
in gusts
before the first storm
stirs weathered flesh.
Autumnal Equinox
just rolls off the tongue.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged autumnal equinox, photography, poetry

Dilated and making bag,
first-calf heifers choose to graze,
closer to our familiar voices
over morning coffee. Perhaps security,
or our loving pride they feel
long distance as we imagine
a pasture full of calves clinging
to a mother’s shadow, the buck and run
as they get older like the thirty years
before them. We begin another season
of grass with rain, with feeding hay
ready to face the future with them.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Calves, Calving, family, first-calf heifers, photography, poetry

With 5 different Edison meters for house and pumps, our mailbox has been full of these notices , one for each, for the past three weeks, usually two daily outages per week. Edison has noticed us for two more outages within the next week as they replace power poles and wire on this five mile stretch of Dry Creek Road. No power, no AC, no pumps and no water for man or beast during this “Heat Advisory” forecast near 110 degrees.
We grin and bear it and try to get along, which means pulling the refrigerator out of its cabinet, unplugging it, then after a few minutes, plugging it back in. We’ve lost about $800 worth of food thus far, but the freezers have come back on without assistance. I’ve learned to anticipate the timing of the outage to shut the water off to the house, which would be drained otherwise and filing with air to be compressed when the juice comes back on with pressures high enough to jeopardize our plumbing.
The contractors (ParWest) have been great, with the exception of an underground services employee who was driving our firebreaks after he left the gate open to the road for 46 first-calf heifers. He did get an earful.
Of course, all this concern comes after PG&E’s bankruptcy when its transmission lines ignited numerous fires in Northern California after which nearly half of the state became a high fire risk area. Fire insurance doubled or tripled or left homes uninsurable. Edison will probably lobby the PUC to raise its rates to pay for all this maintenance it should have doing all along. C’est la vie.
Posted in Ranch Journal
Tagged heat advisory, ParWest, power, Southern California Edison, water