Tag Archives: Dry Creek

Rain

4:00 p.m., February 7, 2015

4:00 p.m., February 7, 2015

 

 

WPC(2) — “Scale”

 

WAITING TO BLOOM

IMG_3009_2

 

In the darkness, I listen to a light strum
upon the roof, visualize the size
of raindrops, calculate the hours

necessary to quench the earth’s thirst
for a week or two before going back
to dream of hillsides too wet to climb,

cattle fat come May – nothing I can do,
but hope and pray for some release.
Sucked dry, we still hold on to a chance

for a verdant spring, grass bellyhigh
and sprinkled with wild colors
from all the old seeds waiting to bloom.

 

Ranch Journal: February 6, 2015

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The wildflowers were trying to bloom before we left for Elko on January 24th, primarily the ubiquitous Fiddleneck and Shepherd’s Purse, but yesterday as Robbin and I went to the Paregien Ranch, we could add Foothill Poppies, Purple Lupine, White-veined Mallow, Popcorn Flowers, Scorpionweed among others—all 30 days earlier than normal that may indicate an early, and perhaps short, spring, especially with record breaking temperatures in the high-70s the past two days.

As we enter what appears to be our fourth drought year with only 5.47” of rain to date, it could be worse. Last year at this time we had only accumulated 1.6”, a year in which we had to feed hay from August through March with a total rainfall for the season of 7.78”. Our 9-year average, including the last three dry years, is 14.36”.

Fortunately, some rain is predicted for this evening and Saturday that may linger into Sunday. Our south slopes have been stressed for the past three years, showing mostly brown with no cover of old feed to hold moisture or offer protection for the new grasses.

Additionally, there is little snow in the Sierras to supply surface water demands from Valley farmers. Water storage in flood control and irrigation facilities is at an all-time low. Half-way through our rainy season, it’s too late for any snow the Sierras might receive to freeze, thus we have lost any time-released benefits farmers might ordinarily enjoy, leaving us more susceptible to spring floods if the Sierras get any amount of snow for the remainder of the season.

No matter how you look at it, it doesn’t look good.

 

Fiddleneck wilting - 2/5/2015

Fiddleneck wilting – 2/5/2015

 

KESTRELS COURTING SPRING

 

Nothing sudden, poor dry hills
like thin cows show too much bone,
I look away for a spot of green

in shadows of trees, on north slopes
to weigh our hopes: how many days    left
before it rains? Bankrupt with years

of debt, of dirt exposed, of dust released,
the old oaks have given-up to start over—
to become earth again, and we

make plans to brand another bunch
like Kestrels courting spring, falling
in a flutter before me yesterday:

fourth of February, seventy-seven degrees.
Nothing sudden, we plod against the obvious
knowing nothing stays the same.

 

BLOW WIVES

Blow Wives - April 6, 2013

Blow Wives – April 6, 2013

 

Spreading seed on wider wings,
Dandelion
by any other name.

 

 

IN THE CROWD

Johnny Tuck - March 31, 2013

Johnny Tuck – March 31, 2013

 

I can show up anywhere
yet never certain who
I want to be.

 

 

USELESS ACCOUTERMENTS

Fiddleneck - April 5, 2011

Fiddleneck – April 5, 2011

 

I’d make music
if I could only trumpet
from my fiddle neck.

 

 

TOGETHER

Phacelia (Scorpionweed) - May 15, 2011

Phacelia (Scorpionweed) – May 15, 2011

 

If we all lean in the same direction
maybe we can change
the world.

 

 

HIS HERONS

 

Easter 2014

Easter 2014

 

After rain in spring, I see my father
standing among a half-dozen others
atop fresh mounds of dirt, hear him

praise the Great Blue Heron as the best
‘gopher-getter around’. As the creek
warms, he glides up canyon early,

spends his days wading shallows,
coasting home in the gloaming.
Punctual, you could set your watch

by his circles to work each day,
depending on season and crop.
When it all mattered too much,

he’d slip up the road to check
the feed and fences, the condition
of my cows grazing with his herons.

 

EMPTY PROMISES

 

March 10, 2014

March 10, 2014

 

Riding rafts of red above
clouds of dust,
we could breathe for a moment.