Supermoon, June 23, 2013
What gift of light
have I to offer
dark mornings,
the coyote’s howl,
of stars reflecting suns
above the ridgeline
of her body sleeping,
breathing beside us
in this canyon apart
from the news
of mortal men
and women staged
to sell consumption
and wealth
to the enslaved—
before I fail
to be so generous
in the daylight?
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, photographs, poetry, Supermoon
Hollow pipe songs at first light
pierce the darkness, own the dawn
with answered calls from oak trees
and granite piles of fractured rock
balanced on the edge of time
frozen around me. Early morning
solos grow into a chorus of chants
on the other side of the door,
a primitive awakening to greet me,
to ignore my circle of chores.
We’ve become part of the landscape
they return to, generations born
near cattle, horses and water troughs.
After these dry years, a colony—
a reunion of Roadrunners nesting.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged birds, Blue Oak, Drought, Dry Creek, photographs, poetry, roadrunner, water, weather, wildlife
Beautiful day for the last branding of the season. At this stage of the game, we don’t know until we wake up in the morning how we’re going to feel about getting a horseback or roping in the branding pen. I’ve long been demoted from the ground crew wrestling calves when I’m not roping, relegated to visiting and watching the action from along the fence — which suits me fine.
Followers of drycrikjournal will recognize Kenny and Virginia McKee in nearly all the photographs of our brandings, and yesterday was our turn to try and repay them for their help all season. To be of help becomes increasingly important as we age, especially in this culture, and it’s been gratifying to see the next generation of cowboys mature as cowmen, horsemen and human beings. We’re truly grateful to be among them and this cattle community. Robbin was able to take a few photos between vaccinating calves that highlighted a day of fun while we got the work done.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged branding, Calves, cows, Kenny & Virginia McKee, photographs
September 5, 2012
We calve in the fall and brand in the spring. As newborns go, this calf is fresh, only minutes old and yet to stand and nurse. Robbin and I are off this morning to help our neighbors, Kenny and Virginia McKee, brand the last of their calves.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/fresh-2/
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged branding, Calves, cows, photographs, weekly-photo-challenge
Ithuriel’s Spear Triteleia laxa – March 18, 2015
We jump into spring
without looking or thinking,
craving wild nectar.
Posted in Haiku 2015, Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, haiku, Ithuriel's Spear, photographs, poetry, Triteleia laxa, wildflowers
Pretty Face, Triteleia ixioides – April 11, 2014
Steep east slope damp,
tall green grass slick,
pale Pretty Faces hold their grins
beneath Buckeyes and Live Oaks—
heavy thatch of fallen limbs
holds the old fence down,
shelters a rat’s nest.
Nature has been winning
since I was here last
with the chain saw,
packing posts afoot
and splicing rusty wire
to keep cattle straight—
pretending to be in charge.
I see my mark: old cuts
with decomposing rings.
Not near as near
as in my mind—
four years since the low snows,
ten more for this six-inch growth.
Steep east slope damp,
tall green grass slick,
pale Pretty Faces hold their grins
beneath Buckeyes and Live Oaks.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged brushing, Buckeyes, fixing fence, Greasy Creek, Live Oaks, photographs, poetry, Pretty Faces, weather, wildflowers
Sulphur Peak – March 3, 2015
For most who don’t know, my family purchased the Greasy Creek Ranch from Earl McKee, mentor, surrogate father and good friend for nearly fifty years, where Robbin and I run our cows and calves. Upon seeing the photo of the two bull calves that escaped a simple gather to the corrals for branding, he was moved to write the following poem:
My mind recalls this precious glade
Where these two youngsters lived and played,
And like years ago their ears would hear,
The trumpeting wails of their fathers near.
That trail close by, I long have trod,
On a favorite horse, these hands have shod,
We both know the song that the Robins sing,
And the sounds of the cattle, where the cowbells ring.
Where the blooming Chaparral smells so fair
And the scent of wild flowers fills the air.
Who wouldn’t come back to this peaceful place,
To see Sulphur Mountain’s Majestic face?
I too, wish I could return once more,
To what these two calves, were longing for,
God planned for this place to be left alone,
And like them, I will always say, “That’s Home”.
E. A. M. — 3/13/2015
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged branding, California Golden Poppies, Calves, Earl A. McKee, Greasy Creek, photographs, poetry, Sulphur Peak, wildflowers
Now in the quiet I stand
and look at her a long time, glad
to have recovered what is lost
in the exchange of something for money.
– Wendell Berry (“The Sorrel Filly”)
Looming closer, a swirling darkness just beyond
the thought of summer’s water that is not
frozen deep in the Sierras to feed our rivers
and canyon leaks—of brittle fall and cattle
gathered at an empty trough. The creek dries back
and sinks in March, lifted to new canopies
of sycamores dressing. Skeletons of old oaks
stand out between greening survivors, some
wearing only clumps of yellow mistletoe
hanging like reasons, raisons—like raisins
clinging to a leafless vine. Each season
spins the same dry song, yet we find our place,
harmonize and sing along, lifted like precious
moisture to tender leaves, a basic ascension not
available in the big box stores, unrecorded
in the history of our presence. This may be
the new normal for old people—that daze
of amazement we have been working towards.
Posted in Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged "The Sorrel Filly", Blue Oak, cattle, Drought, Dry Creek, Kaweah, Kaweah River, poetry, rain, San Joaquin Valley, water, weather, Wendell Berry
Leftover cedar
logs from the house
twenty-five years ago
paid for
frame a loamy mix
of decomposing granite and clay
with horse manure
stirred and piled
fine as sand
three years fluffed
with the skid steer
and fill what could be
a feeder along the fence—
a sixty-foot trough
for bare root raspberries
blackberries
border of red onions
come summer
and it not yet spring.
Like finches building nests
we enlarge the garden
in two half-days,
tend to instincts
warm air brings
and flesh demands
like plowing fingers
in fresh-worked dirt.
We lift another glass
and see colored fruit
years from here
paid-for.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged birds, blackberry, Dry Creek, garden, photographs, poetry, raspberry, red onions, weather, weekly-photo-challenge
Two months from Elko
busy branding calves,
begging for rain and grass,
we listen under an empty
overcast to “A Matter
of Believin’” as if Gail
were here with 100 years
of ranching lessons
in poetry and song.
South slopes all but done,
thin feed gray on clay
showing again,
it’s time to love
this short spring
wrapped in wildflowers
with our old friend
and glass of wine—
the whole show
mostly behind us now,
we indulge ourselves,
embrace the storms
of good fortune
we have worn well—
believing and trusting,
adapting like cattle
to these same hills
just harvesting grass.
Posted in Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged "A Matter of Believin'", cows, Drought, Dry Creek, Gail Steiger, poetry, rain, weather, Wendell Berry, wildflowers
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