Never really green with grass,
the south slopes tried to hide the clay,
standing naked in underwear
these past three years. Too late for rain,
precursor clouds let their shadows run
up canyon walls on gusts that stir
our dry flesh, that lift the hair—
each excited follicle reaching
to dance with the thought of rain.
Thirty days ago we hoped
for a better spring,
for clouds to rain us
back to normal
as we looked down
Ridenhour Canyon
to Dry Creek Road—
to the orchards
of Lemon Cove.
Hills now brittle and brown,
last year’s dead oak skeletons
have company, naked
as the Kaweahs—tilted
granite rock without snow.
Corporate Ag without water
drills wells to hell—
spending billions
into the Pleistocene
to hasten the conclusion
of farming the San Joaquin.
We had hoped for a better spring,
another month of rain and green,
creeks and rivers overflowing,
flooding Valley towns.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged corporate ag, Drought, towns, Valley farming, weather, wells
Dawn’s soft light steaming,
rain’s last embrace still clinging,
love spent overnight.
Posted in Haiku 2015, Photographs, Poems 2015
Tagged dawn, Drought, Dry Creek, rain, weather, weekly-photo-challenge
March 24, 2015
The impact of three years of drought on the Blue Oaks shows up well as the trees that have survived begin to leaf out. (Click to enlarge) These Blue Oaks are across the creek from our house, on a north slope at the 1,200-foot elevation. No rain in sight, the grass has turned 30 days earlier than normal as we prepare to head into an early summer.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Blue Oak, Drought, Dry Creek, photographs, water, weather
Hollow pipe songs at first light
pierce the darkness, own the dawn
with answered calls from oak trees
and granite piles of fractured rock
balanced on the edge of time
frozen around me. Early morning
solos grow into a chorus of chants
on the other side of the door,
a primitive awakening to greet me,
to ignore my circle of chores.
We’ve become part of the landscape
they return to, generations born
near cattle, horses and water troughs.
After these dry years, a colony—
a reunion of Roadrunners nesting.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged birds, Blue Oak, Drought, Dry Creek, photographs, poetry, roadrunner, water, weather, wildlife
Now in the quiet I stand
and look at her a long time, glad
to have recovered what is lost
in the exchange of something for money.
– Wendell Berry (“The Sorrel Filly”)
Looming closer, a swirling darkness just beyond
the thought of summer’s water that is not
frozen deep in the Sierras to feed our rivers
and canyon leaks—of brittle fall and cattle
gathered at an empty trough. The creek dries back
and sinks in March, lifted to new canopies
of sycamores dressing. Skeletons of old oaks
stand out between greening survivors, some
wearing only clumps of yellow mistletoe
hanging like reasons, raisons—like raisins
clinging to a leafless vine. Each season
spins the same dry song, yet we find our place,
harmonize and sing along, lifted like precious
moisture to tender leaves, a basic ascension not
available in the big box stores, unrecorded
in the history of our presence. This may be
the new normal for old people—that daze
of amazement we have been working towards.
Posted in Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged "The Sorrel Filly", Blue Oak, cattle, Drought, Dry Creek, Kaweah, Kaweah River, poetry, rain, San Joaquin Valley, water, weather, Wendell Berry
Two months from Elko
busy branding calves,
begging for rain and grass,
we listen under an empty
overcast to “A Matter
of Believin’” as if Gail
were here with 100 years
of ranching lessons
in poetry and song.
South slopes all but done,
thin feed gray on clay
showing again,
it’s time to love
this short spring
wrapped in wildflowers
with our old friend
and glass of wine—
the whole show
mostly behind us now,
we indulge ourselves,
embrace the storms
of good fortune
we have worn well—
believing and trusting,
adapting like cattle
to these same hills
just harvesting grass.
Posted in Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged "A Matter of Believin'", cows, Drought, Dry Creek, Gail Steiger, poetry, rain, weather, Wendell Berry, wildflowers
Early yet in an early spring,
growing patches, orange-gold,
claim open slopes like flames,
Fiddleneck between gray skeletons
of Blue Oaks pushing bud,
feathery translucent leaves
where the gods walk ridges,
wave hands to paint,
adding color to hillside green
we’ve not seen tall in years.
Out of dust and naked dirt,
new mosaics, lush with moments,
openings for everything put off
in drouth—real work we absorb,
take our sweet time to recognize.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged Blue Oak, Drought, Dry Creek, photographs, poetry, real work, time, weather, weekly-photo-challenge, wildflowers
Perfect for early bloomers,
Fiddleneck, White-veined Mallow,
London Rockets pale the pasture.
Rain in the ground, thick Filaree
overreaches like loose-fringed
lettuce for more—more of the same.
Grass ahead of the cattle, it’s war—
every seed battling for real estate,
real dirt damp, for sun and rain,
green hills puddled with spilt paint.
Everything perfect on it’s own, yet
I fret with the brittle momentum
of lean, dry years—months of dust
and hay—a hard pace that interferes
with becoming forgiving as this ground
exploding in all the colors of rain.
Desperately, I reach through
early morning black for light.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, Dry Creek, photographs, poetry, rain, resilience, water, weather, wildflowers
Posted in Haiku 2015, Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged death, Drought, Dry Creek, haiku, photographs, poetry, rain, resurrection, weather, weekly-photo-challenge, wildflowers, wildlife
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