A promise from forgotten days of rain,
bold whites and blues and greens
flush the flesh clean as a hawk’s cry
in spring. When we were children
here, we walked within our dreams
of endless rivers crashing and cascading
from the Sierra snowpack into the Valley
ditches and furrows, row upon row
to fill the cornucopia of the world.
But we have pumped the ground dry.
Is this a harbinger of better times, or
have the gods returned to say goodbye?
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged corporate ag, Drought, gods, rain, sustainability, water, wells
Best to paint a better picture
without the grizzly details,
without the place the rifle takes
the task at hand—I know the way
and how to get back
digging a hole in hard ground.
I can’t replay all the faces
in my crosshairs, but
a compassionate man checks out
to play God
deaf to sentiment and fear
long enough to not like it—
better to have cattle trailing
the feed truck
to wherever it goes.
2.16” of rain the past two days and snow down to about 2,000 feet yesterday have been a game changer for Robbin and me. So long dry, it’s not been easy to think in any other terms than drought, but we’re getting there as the south and west slopes fill in with green. Forecast for more rain on the way through Christmas.
I’ve worked hard on my imperfections:
hobbled anger to the point of giving up
my passion. The drought has beat me up
into a zombie retracing small circles
from house to barn for hay to cattle
and back home for years, it seems.
I gathered ghosts and local wild gods
to hope upon a waxing moon for rain,
for a superfluous verdancy to untrack me,
clear the air and make mud of dust—
it’s beginning now, a standing ovation
of applause upon a metal roof.
Before my time
an empty bottle cast
where there was no road,
pink with a lifetime
of blistering sunlight
and I wonder who
a horseback threw it
now in the short grass—
legends in these hills,
weathered men,
drinkers all
coping with the times—
with bankers and buyers
betting on the market
and little chance of rain.
Or what couple when
lay naked then
in wildflower sunshine.
Not much has changed
except for the price
of a cheap bottle of wine.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged cattle business, lovers, weather, wine
Gray silver rain,
burnished coins
upon the green—
first leaves of filaree
like faces waiting,
hands open expectantly.
The ground sighs
just in time and we,
with wood stacked,
breathe freely now
as cows down from ridgetops
collect babies waiting
for breakfast
and old enough to listen
for their mother’s voice.
She slipped easily away
under clouds like these.
I hear phrases now—
her knowing
and all her demons
haunt me delightfully,
words that fit
and suddenly
become my own.
She would be pleased for us,
gray silver rain
upon the green.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Beneath clouds
the forecast rain peters out
to a light mist, heavy dew, a sip
to hold greening hills a week—
like always, I’m disappointed
wanting more
security for cows.
Today, we’ll cut skeletons
of brittle manzanita
into woodstove lengths
to bring Blue Oak coals
to flame each morning.
We’ll take the dog,
put out salt,
check cows and calves—
stack the brush
load the Kubota
and let her sit between us
all the way home.
Through the years
we have worn cow trails of our own.
Like always, we’ll see something
we’ve never seen before.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged cow trails, cycles, dog, habits, Manzanita, rain, woodstove
A week after our 2” rain event, everyone is feeling pretty good. Yesterday as Robbin and I began scattering hay to our first-calf heifers, their Wagyu X calves busted loose across the Flat. The iPhone photo is but a portion of the 60+ head on their return trip to mama and the feed grounds.
Ever respectful
in the presence of preying,
or praying out loud.
Posted in Haiku 2021, Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged pray, praying mantis, prey
After nearly 2 inches of rain, everything is clean, having traded dust and smoke for mud and puddles, we’re delighted and relieved. Though we’ll be feeding hay for another 3 weeks or so, we expect our hills to be green this week. Though it feels like a drought-buster, long-term forecasts point to a developing La Niña with only a 10% chance of this year’s rainy season being wetter than last.
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