No moon, no stars,
she sneaks up canyon
in the dark an hour late
from the black
as if she never left.
A sprinkle kisses the roof
I cannot see, but hear
find its way to earth.
After midnight, my mother
would turn the porch light off,
so no one knew I wasn’t home
when we had neighbors, trails
between cabins in the mountains
I knew by braille
and by the sound
of my young feet, light
upon the night trails.
In the end, no one cares
exactly when it rained—
only that it came.
A beautiful day Friday, I took my camera while checking the calves we branded, photographing this one resting comfortably in a bed of mustard greens, along with the gray cow and calf born late September.
We’re taking the whole bunch back to Belle Point this morning after a slow 0.30″ rain yesterday afternoon and overnight–the same rain we raced yesterday morning while branding Tony Rabb’s calves just over the ridge in Antelope Valley.
Forecast for 8:00 a.m. up until the last moment, skies were clear at daybreak as the storm approached from the coast. Tony made the call and we hustled through 100 calves before the first drop landed at 11:30 a.m.
I note, not so much for posterity but to jog my failing memory, that we had a lot of fun at the quickened pace, far from ‘old people slow’. My first opportunity to help the neighbors brand this season, I took Bart, Robbin’s wonderful gelding, who worked well-enough to have some fun himself, a tough little horse hard not to like.
I also found the Burrowing Owl in his digs Friday while checking the heifers just recently exposed to Wagyu bulls. The first wave of family arrives today. ‘Tis the season.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Bart, Belle Point, branding, Burrowing Owl, family, mustard, neighbors, rain, Tony Rabb, Wagyu