I once dreamed I might have been
a mountain man in another life,
trapped cats and coyotes
instead of beaver—
learned to view the world
through untamed eyes
assessing sign as I became
the prize and placed my twigs
and scents accordingly.
I sifted dirt
to hide the jaws
while writing poetry:
bird-wing fluttering
from a fishing filament
still fascinates me.
Posted in Haiku 2020, Photographs, Poems 2020
Tagged coyote, photography, poetry, trapping, wild, world view
It did not rain a drop despite the forecasts, our neighbors on board to brand some calves, cattle gathered thirty minutes up the hill under blue skies with light, white clouds wanting to turn gray. The sun came out early and the corrals that Earl McKee had begun to renovate over a decade ago were dressed in layers of coats and jackets. However, more than once the sky turned dark with cold wind gusts that kept us hustling.
Always good help and a joy to have Corrine (Ainely) Manes in the branding pen as son Heston keeps himself entertained outside the corral.
Audrey Maze is headed to the “Art of the Cowgirl” to heel behind Shelly Pascoe and JPS Six Guns, Lot 12 for sale, a solid gelding owned by our neighbor Jody Fuller.
We look forward to Brent Huntington’s help and sense of humor in the corral, especially when he brings Sid to help work the ground.
Shane Doering has been great help this year in the branding pens of all our neighbors. Here, he’s working with Collette Taylor’s young roan horse.
A fantastic day, do I dare say fun, with pulled pork sandwiches prepared by Maggie Loverin waiting for us back down the hill. Thank you all!
Posted in Photographs
On the edge of fog, we’ve been gathering Greasy to brand Thursday, while the forecast for rain varies from from a few hundredths to a quarter-inch from a half-dozen Internet weather sites. Above the fog, we shed all the jackets it took to get there, a true inversion layer. Time to fish or cut bait.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged branding, fog, Greasy Creek, photography, weather
Five Western Bluebirds
at the local water hole
after the fog lifts.
nothing left but a river flowing on the borders of heaven
– Li Po (“On Yellow-Crane Tower, Farewell to
Meng Hao-jan Who’s Leaving for Yang-chou”)
A Chinese boat-float
like a leaf among starlit mists
would sell like hotcakes
for those with time and self-respect
nowadays—
an ascension yet from the page,
from discord and dissension,
and damn-near free.
There is a hidden pack of cigarettes
waiting
after the patches, gum
and incessant vaping,
the midnight bellyache
and rattly ambulance ride
to a chair in Emergency
visited by young, head-scratching
teams practicing medicine
by consensus
find nothing wrong
and send me home—
and the second ride
two days later
across the parking lot
from the Doctor’s office.
There is a hidden pack of cigarettes
waiting
after Sepsis
and the gut-wrenching antibiotics
and mind-bending pain
medications:
I build loops in my sleep
and shoot bighorn sheep
from my hospital bed.
There is a hidden pack of cigarettes
waiting
six months later
after the surgeon tells me
what I cannot eat
or drink—after we agree
to wait a little longer.
As of one of two old men among some good young cowboys at Tony Rabb’s branding yesterday, the importance of bringing young men along was self-evident. Schooled at home before the branding pen, a young man must ride, rope, roll a calf, dally, slide slack and stay out of trouble. This was Brandon Huntington’s first branding on New Year’s Day and he managed to do it all!
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
A beautiful day to start the New Year. No parades. No football games. We spent the day with our community of neighbors and friends branding calves on Dry Creek.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
What a great surprise to see Brigid Reedy on the cover of Alta Magazine, Journal of Alta California. Accompanying her in this issue are also perspectives from my good friends Amy M. Hale (Auker), Ramblin Jack Elliott, Andy Hedges and Don Flemons to round out “The Herd Word” by Meredith Lawerence, a tribute to the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!! (Branding calves this morning)
Posted in Ranch Journal
Tagged Alta Magazine, Amy Hale Auker, Andy Hedges, Brigid Reedy, Don Flemons, Ramblin' Jack Elliott
Courtesy: The Summit Post
If ever there was a table set
on the John Muir Trail,
it was picked clean
between meals
by Steller Jays
impatiently waiting,
screeching, falling
from Tamaracks
in the midden around
a black circle of stones.
The trail is wide
through Rae Lakes
beneath Fin Dome—
slick leather soles
on the Serpent’s back—
my name is in the box
above the fractured chimney
where I held a tourist
pregnant from falling.
Saved two risking one.
I leave again without the work,
without the pack stock,
without the traffic on the trail
whenever I want
to cast clear water
to green submarines
cruising a hidden lake
that I suspect
the world has found
and picked clean.
for Tim Loverin
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2019
Tagged Fin Dome, John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon, photography, poetry, Rae Lakes, Sierra Nevada, Steller Jays
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