MEMORIAL DAY 2019

Posted on May 28, 2019 by | 1 comment

 

 

Old friends pass on clouds,
slide up the canyon,
bring rain and thunder.

We cry and ache beneath
our cage of ribs, remember
each dear one by name.

                              for JAT

 

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May Rains

Posted on May 27, 2019 by | 10 comments

 

 

Noteworthy are the nine days of measurable rainfall in May, over 2 inches
here on Dry Creek. Typically, we don’t get any rain in May, but when we do it’s usually limited to the first week. Our series of storms this year have been the predecessors of the nasty weather that has plagued the mid-West and the rest of the nation.

Our rainfall total for the season is just under 21 inches to date. Our average for the past fourteen years here is 16.22″. Interestingly, we’ve received over 20 inches in five of the last fourteen years including this 2018-19 season.

What’s it all mean? Places on the hillsides and in the flats are turning green.  Quite a trick for annual grasses, one I’ve never seen before.

 

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HEAVENLY

Posted on May 26, 2019 by | 3 comments

 

 

I measure short distances with my eye
and the pulsing neon price in my bones.

Back to basics, I would rather melt in place
and be reconstituted among the grasses

than leave my soul among the self-righteous
corralled within their alabaster fortresses.

I quit the bunch and shed the nasty weight
of their guilt and hate for one another.

I want to watch among the remnants
when the angels make their gather, and

on the embers of their fire, hear songs rising
to join the stars—now that would be heavenly.

 

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GOING HOME

Posted on May 24, 2019 by | 1 comment

 

 

No need to worry
about fancy horsemanship—
the girls know the way.

 

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BLOND ON BLOND

Posted on May 23, 2019 by | 7 comments

 

 

Taking the cows home
a week after weaning
snakes easily over the saddle
and down to the water
of collected dreams.

I remember yellow
Euclid trucks dumping
layers of native pasture
armored with rock
across the river in ’59,

flooding shoreline picnics
and ground squirrels targets
where the Wukchumne camped—
where Loren Fredricks
never learned to swim

afraid of the three-foot carp,
sun-dried, he had to ride upon
in a horse-drawn cart
up Dry Creek to Eshom
before he became a cowboy.

Snow stacked high
on the Kaweahs, we held
the water back when Visalia
was a town, spread the city out
with no water in the ground.

               Blond cowgirl
               on a palomino
               in the wild oats
               above black cows
               and Lake Kaweah—

taking them home
a week after weaning
snakes easily over the saddle
and down to the water
of our collected dreams.

 

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REMEMBERING JAMES DEAN

Posted on May 22, 2019 by | Leave a comment

 

 

Dark clouds at dawn
beyond the ridgeline,
light rain upon the roof—

one white bullet hole
of light up canyon
looking down

searching for truth
while I drink coffee
craving a cigarette,

wanting to inhale
the damp morning
into my flesh

mixed with smoke
to spin my head
one more time.

Too old to be cool,
I chew
Nicorette instead.

 

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APEX AND RANGE

Posted on May 20, 2019 by | 2 comments

 

 

The ridges are crowded with generations
of relatives and old friends
who came with this ground—

               a native ascension
               a pardon from heaven

for those whose roots won’t let loose
of the baked clay and granite
the weather has chiseled

into crumbling headstones. Easier
to hear their voices, feel them near
as I grow older, closer to them.

 

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SHIPPING DAY 2005

Posted on May 19, 2019 by | Leave a comment

 

(click to enlarge)

 

Privilege and luck
to know and work with fine men
while getting older.

A part of them sticks
to the sides of gaping holes
they have left us with

to load semi-trucks
with ripened grass on the hoof—
cowmen to count on.

 

 

Returning home yesterday after a moving celebration of the life of Earl McKee, Robbin went through some her photos trying to determine the age of our old dog, only to run across her photo of Tom Grimmius and Art Tarbell on Dry Creek, two more from the old school that are no longer with us to help get the job done. Reminding me of H.C. “Bud” Jackson’s “The Good ‘Uns” about Cleo Denny and other local and progressive cattlemen, published in 1980.

 

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Range Magazine, Summer 2019

Posted on May 18, 2019 by | 5 comments

 

Carolyn Duferrena Photo

Robbin and I had a delightful visit with Carolyn Dufurrena here on the ranch last August where she interviewed me for this article in Range Magazine,
“Bard of the Southern Sierra”.
My thanks to C. J. Hadley for her continuing support of the people, the lands and the wildlife of the West—
“The Cowboy Spirit on America’s Outback”.

 

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Homeland Security

Posted on May 17, 2019 by | Leave a comment

 

 

If social media is any indication, the importance of pets in the lives of humans seems to have increased substantially. Ironically in practice, many are dropped off on Dry Creek Road to fend for themselves. Blog followers may remember the five puppies recued last fall.

Buster’s New Digs

 

 

The owners of one of Buster’s adopted siblings discovered that the puppies were German Shepherd and Great Pyrenees mix, a behavioral cross
unlike any other we’ve encountered, Great Pyrenees Mix, an interesting addition to our household.

 

 

Buster and and a February drop off relaxing—sad human behavior.

 

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