Tag Archives: age

THEY COME TO ME (aka “WILD OATS”)

Posted on April 16, 2023 by | 8 comments
Top: Jim Wells, Leroy Whitney, Scott Erickson. Middle: Jack Erickson, Kyle Loveall, Gary Davis, Jr., Forrest Homer, Mehrten Homer, E. J. Britten, Earl McKee, Jr. Bottom: Clarence Holdbrooks, John Dofflemyer, Craig Thorn III.

 

Ever so gentle, these waves of wild oats—

easy undulations into the wide swath

of bright-yellow White Mustard

 

in the disturbed ground

where we fed bulls

drought after drought.

 

If ever I could reinvent myself

as easily with storm after storm,

shake the slow walk and run

 

with breath aplenty, mind sharp.

Hazy days of snapshots flashing

uninvited or young among old men

 

now gone in the photograph

of the branding crew Rochelle took

when Craig was still alive

 

hanging on the bathroom wall

with south slopes of pure gold,

wet spring after the Drought of 1977.

 

Ever so gentle, these waves of memory,

stories only searching names,

ever so gentle, they come to me.

 

 

 

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Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal

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CONFESSION ONGOING

Posted on January 21, 2023 by | 8 comments

March 10, 2011

 

Once the invincible gambler,

I was weaned on cowboy heroics

to wear the scrapes and scars

 

of chance and circumstance

stiffly—my bones now groan

ground under the pressure

 

of time, worn smooth as cobbles

in a creekbed.  Stride shortened,

my feet slide searching for stability,

 

having danced this earth as one

in my collected dreams aboard

four great horses I’ve outlived—

 

I am learning to change my mind,

to find the flavor in a moment

I’ll not savor another time.

 

 

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Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal

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RECHARGING THE BATTERY AS IT RAINS

Posted on January 14, 2023 by | 1 comment

 

The fine dust upon old tools I have forgotten

as I clean the shop: my brace and bits, some

long-enough to chew through creosoted

 

railroad ties while scraping granite gravel. Mighty

hugs to my shoulder in long, youthful spurts

that warmed the birdshot bearings out-of-round

 

where there was no electricity to hang a gate

miles from the asphalt. It was my third.

I wore them out. I knew no other way.  

 

I recognize the dead scent of time as mine

on the shelves, in wooden boxes no one makes

anymore, protecting stiff-leather headstalls

 

and rusty bits we’ll never use again. I must make

room for the cordless handyman, especially

since this old battery has begun to run down.

 

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Posted in POEMS 2023, Ranch Journal

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NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION

Posted on January 1, 2023 by | Leave a comment

 

 

No time to rush! Let me linger,

relearn the mantra,

absorb the moment.

Time will escape me soon enough.

 

The forecast storm is bogged-down north.

We’re wet enough

to have a spring—

wildflowers blooming in our dreams.

 

Feeding horses, I catch the mist—

each tiny drop

upon my tongue

tastes like this passing moment.

 

 

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Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023

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SIDE BY SIDE

Posted on November 28, 2022 by | 7 comments

Lesley Fry Photo

Spectacular weather yesterday on the Paregien ranch. Above 2,000 feet in elevation and twenty 4 x 4 minutes from the asphalt, it is a magic place rich with native and anecdotal history.  Currently, the feed is short but still greening since the 1.45” we got on the 6th, 7th and 8th of this month. The cattle have left the flats for the slopes and ridges where the new grass is growing faster, protected from frost by the remnants of old feed. Early last week the prognosticators canceled today’s rain, but have now forecast a significant amount for Thursday into the weekend.  (We’ll see.)

 

While pumping water, looking for the neighbor’s errant bull and measuring the corrals for a much-needed makeover, Robbin and I spent the morning with the Fry/Fox family cutting Manzanita and Live Oak deadfall for our woodstove because of my tendonitis. With our many hands, what fun we had!

 

It’s been several months since I carelessly cut a tree in the road that knocked me down, damaging the rotator cuff of my right shoulder. And about a month since compensating for it to pop a tendon, sounding like a gun shot, in my left forearm.  Enlisted now in medical protocol and procedures, it’s taken a couple of weeks to confirm the damage with an MRI.  Apparently surgery and long recovery is my best option. I see the Dr. again in 4 weeks, meanwhile I’m supposed to do nothing.

 

I am amused that only children and seniors measure their age in half-years, kids because they want to be older, and seniors, I suppose, eager to numerically reassure themselves of their existence. I’m 74 ½ and need to act my age.  My life, our life, on this ranch has always been physical and it’s been too easy for me to forget I’m no longer fifty or sixty building fence or bucking hay.  But to have our good friends and neighbors volunteer to help us get some firewood in was truly a wonderful gift on a beautiful day.  Thank you Chuck and Lesley Fry, Katy and Cody Hanson, and Allie and Shawn Fox.  You guys are the best!

 

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Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal

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HEARTWOOD

Posted on November 16, 2022 by | Leave a comment

 

 

 

Chain saw heavier, I cut arms

off skeletons littering pastures

and canyons after years of drought,

 

a battleground where old oaks lost

touch with water—most barkless now

tipped-over or in tangled piles

 

beneath authoritative trunks

begging purpose, begging cremation

or stacked close to the woodstove.

 

Old habits and rituals finally slow

as the limbs grow heavier despite

the pleading of the heartwood.

 

 

 

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Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal

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A NEIGHBOR’S HAND

Posted on January 23, 2022 by | 3 comments

It’s not easy to get glimpses of myself

among the young men in the branding pen,

awkward young bulls bellowing

as they wrestle fat calves to the ground.

 

Yesterday, I carried the nut-bucket

and dope instead of riding with a rope,

instead of sliding a wide loop

beneath two feet. I can feel it, see it

 

in my mind, the smooth dance and dally

round a cotton-wrapped horn, rolling

calves and slipping slack when needed—

but my metronome has slowed.

 

I don’t wish to be among the old chiefs

who stayed too long to become obstacles

in space and time just to be aboard,

just to lend a neighbor’s hand, like always.

3 Comments

Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal

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FANTASY

Posted on December 26, 2021 by | 2 comments

Last night’s rain left a glistening

on the leaves of limbs at dawn,

 

beads upon the redwood silver

twinkling like a Christmas tree.

 

White icing shines upcanyon,

dark chocolate in the creek flow,

 

first light ignites the sycamores

and cottonwoods to flames,

 

aged sorrel geldings buck and slide

in mud like fresh colts finding legs.

 

Last night’s rain left me dreaming

beyond this canyon—all a fantasy.

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Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal

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MENTORS

Posted on January 5, 2021 by | 2 comments 
The old timers built traps
with limp ropes
in small branding pens
 
before the team ropers showed
to take their place,
as time overtook them
 
and their steady horses.
Almost anyone can catch 
two feet going slow and easy.
 
Homer, Earl, Dave and E.J.,
I can picture them now
roping just like me.

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Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021

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INTO BLACK NIGHT

Posted on December 4, 2019 by | 11 comments

 

 

There are no dreams like this:
old man learning to go slow
without coming to a stop—

                    hand let run the smooth flesh
                    of a time and weather-worn
                    corral-board table top, sanded
                    and shellacked, splinters sealed
                    beneath to become functional.

                    Scars and crooked fingers trace
                    the deep grain without calloused
                    insulation, a new sensation saved
                    for thin skin that bruises easily.

There are no dreams like this
for whip and spur youth, wide loops
and inflated heroics—yahoo mugs
raised to the wild, to the heavens
howling late into black night
when once I was among them.

 

11 Comments

Posted in Photographs, Poems 2019

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