Tag Archives: Dry Creek

VENUS AT FIVE

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Listening to silence
through blue velvet skies,
old friends before the sun.

 

 

WPC (5) — “Contrasts”

Bumblebee, G & T and a Buzz

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While in the garden with the Olympus point & shoot last Saturday evening, I attempted some shots of bumblebees, at work on Robbin’s Cosmos, with its telephoto in a breeze. Most photographers know better.

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Last evening on the deck with gin & tonics to assuage the 110° day, I brought the macro lens out. As we were talking, a bumblebee crashed into the back of Robbin’s head and landed on the table, seemingly overcome with heat,

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only to come back to life and head for my glass.

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Whether for the condensation or the coolness of the glass, or both, it was determined. With fading light, photographers understand my lack of depth of field, and the flash

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that didn’t deter him a bit. After 15 or 20 minutes, I went back out to the Cosmos.

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He was still busy on the glass when I returned.

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Whether moisture or coolness, Robbin decided to let him have an ice cube from her glass.

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Whereupon he spent another five minutes or so, until he had his fill, then stumbled off and collapsed. We thought we’d killed him.

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But alas, he rallied, crawled across the table, fell off the edge onto our 2” x 6” deck, then crawled off between a crack—much better, we assume, for the experience.

Last Bunch 2014

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It’s been a long, dry year, but we’ve begun to breathe easier now that our last bunch of calves is in the weaning pen and headed to town tomorrow morning. Born last fall, they are averaging about 100 lbs. lighter than normal due to the drought, but current prices more than make up the difference.

The country we graze is cross-fenced into pastures. We gather each twice a year to brand and wean while culling the cows that don’t fit our program either due to age or late calving dates. It takes about six weeks for us to wean all our calves, but longer to brand when it rains and while we’re helping our neighbors. We try to keep our cows in the same pasture their entire lives here, familiar ground where they can make homes and the gather becomes routine. Because of our terrain, rotational grazing is impracticable—so we understock to meet most feed conditions instead.

This second year of drought, however, has reduced our cowherd by 40% while feeding 500 tons of alfalfa since last fall. Because of the time and feed required for a heifer to have her first calf, we kept no replacement heifers this year. It’s disappointing for Robbin and I to see them go and the efforts of the past twenty years reduced so drastically, but we hope to take advantage of this heavy culling by improving the genetics of our cows into the future. We are encouraged with a good base to work with, as our cowherd now is fairly young, a third of which are first and second-calf cows.

Near term, we concentrate on improving stockwater until it might rain again this fall.

 

BETWEEN

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Summer gather,
the dawn below me,
we ride between realities.

 

 

Weekly Photo Challenge (2) “Between”

BALANCE

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To the flutter and whir
of learning how to drink
water from a trough.

 

 

PERMANENT PASTURE

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Near the Solstice,
my irrigation water languishes,
lollygags in the pasture
of short-cropped green
and a few too many cows—

soaking and absorbed
fifty yards shy
of the wilting end
to my temporary world.

Fifty years ago,
my mother’s father
curtly admonished me,
forever instilled
that nothing is permanent.

After a dark night
of chasing dreams,
I wonder if death
is nothing—
nothing more
than a good sleep
while the water runs
to pasture’s end.

 

WPC—MOONSTRUCK

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Clean slate—fresh faith
rising to meet daylight
when anything can happen.

 

 

5:14 a.m., May 24, 2014

 

Weekly Photo Challenge—’Extra’

OVERSPRAY

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One hundred degree cows
come close, feed on one side,
lawn on the other.

 

 

SUMMER IN THE SAN JOAQUIN

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Dawn bears down early,
sears flesh exposed,
blinds eye and mind

into a fuzzy daze,
fiery-white as hell
must be. We plod

slowly with heads bowed
to mantras of water
keeping the living alive.

Like cattle, we bed with
welcome breezes moving
shade to shade.

 

 

IN THE MIDDLE OF A MIRACLE

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Of this earth and all its erosion,
its granite and baked clay slopes
alive with cycles of seed and grass,
we revel in its wet bounty
and die a little in dry hard times.

We have become the cows we raise
in time, generations of calves that stayed
to nurse another—this earth their home.
We are the strong and lucky ones
to be living in the middle of a miracle.