Rising from the saddle
beneath Sulphur,
a full wolf moon views
first break in the rain
for over a week
as if to assess
a rare miracle:
green slopes leaking
rivulets spilling
into draws into creeks
foamed like Irish coffee.
We are drunk with it
wanting more, another
warm sweet storm
to validate
a lifetime—this
wild existence:
grass and rain,
cows to graze
our blurred exposure.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, Ranch Journal
Tagged Buena Vista, Drought, Dry Creek, Fishermen's Wharf, Irish Coffee, photography, poetry, rain, weather
After a decade, we gave-up prayer,
swallowed our appeals to pagan gods
and goddesses that might be listening—
we forgot the feel of tall green feed
wet upon our knees, resigned ourselves
to do without—to adapt to drought.
Wettest December in a century,
but for the floods of ’55 and ’66,
I don’t regret what I wished for.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, Ranch Journal
Tagged careful what you wish for, December rains, Drought, Dry Creek, floods, photography, poetry, rain, weather
Thanks to science,
we’re learning new lingo
to rhyme with reason—
plus head-scratching acronyms
to break meter and thought.
Six straight days wet
and a good chance
for a dozen more
floating along
this atmospheric river.
________________________________
Flowing 962 cfs @ 8:00 a.m. at the brush catchers, Dry Creek peaked at 1,400 cfs @ 3:00 a.m., Badger having received 3.81″ upstream in the last 24 hrs. 1.61″ for us.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, Ranch Journal
Gray canyon rain,
café au lait rivulets
overfill vernal pools
spreading to the creek
just begun to run
at the end of December.
She stayed overnight
and all day, lingering
to leave us extra rain,
as if we were old lovers
trying to give the past
a second chance—
she offers nourishment
to thirsty earth, bare slopes
a cover of color come spring:
a team of sunlit Wood Ducks
at the edges of water pooled
grazing with horses.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, photography, poetry, rain, runoff, vernal pools, water, weather, Wood Ducks
Dirt track before asphalt,
ruts in mud, December sycamores
after a rain waiting to undress,
like always—it feels the same
to escape upcanyon in your painting,
leaving main roads behind
before it was engineered
for 18 wheels to haul gravel—
town politics behind us.
Before the flood of ’55,
Terminus Dam in ’61,
much has changed
except for the feeling you’ve captured
of peaceful adventure
at every beginning of our road home.
for Myrtle Sue Redford
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022
Tagged Dry Creek, Dry Creek Road 1946, Mrytle Sue Redford, photography, poetry, sycamores
Nothing near, the long-term forecast
changes on the hour as we look out
over Christmas color, out of storage early,
at independent calves at water,
and our persistent green still breathing
with each dawn’s dew. Almost everything
we need is near-at-hand before Thanksgiving
with a welcome splash of cheer
as we wait for rain, like always.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged cheer, Christmas, Drought, Dry Creek, forecast, photography, poetry, rain, Thanksgiving, weather
Color comes with cold and wet
within the canyon, even before
the creek flows or sycamores burn
leather brown to shed their clothes—
white bodies tangled in a pagan dance
to gods unknown. Orioles return
as sparks in the brush, levity
in the pink overcast of dawn.
We glean the fallen skeletons
of oak and brittle manzanita
to fill the woodstove. Curious cattle
come to wonder what we’re about.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged cattle, colors, Drought, Dry Creek, Fire, firewood, Manzanita, photography, poetry, rain, sycamores, weather
The weather here is queen,
haggard goddess dodging phone calls,
prayers—she gathers storms
like cattle to market
leaving empty pastures bare to cook
for sometimes years—
sometimes centuries displacing
civilizations for archeological
supposition and conjecture.
We cannot know her mind—
she is old and forgetful
and often wanders in a haze.
But when we smell her
approaching on the wind
our dry skin tightens as
we become like reckless children
turned loose to prepare
the fires for her arrival,
be it wrath or cordial,
for she is queen
of eternity.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, Dry Creek, nature, personification, photography, poetry, rain, weather
The cows know the way
following the idling sounds
of the diesel hay truck
to the feed grounds just beyond
the glacial slab of granite
honeycombed with grinding holes
of another era
when 300 Natives
made a living in this canyon.
After the flood
they moved the road
away from the creek in ’69—
exposing human bones.
The cast iron well head
for the red brick slaughterhouse
stands like a gravestone
among dead oak limbs—for
a time between then and now.
A cow turns back to attend to her calf
swallowing dust, another murmurs
trust that there will be hay.
* * * *
0.28″
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged Calves, cows, Drought, Dry Creek, dust, feed truck, glacial slab, grinding holes, Natives, photography, poetry, rain, weather
Say good-bye to your mothers
for the long ride
all you children—
the truck is clean
shavings on the floor.
Driver said it snowed
before he left,
needed chains on Donner
rolling empty here in May.
We shake our heads
about the weather,
damn little rain,
the creek’s gone dry.
With a week of winds
the oaks have come alive,
tree limbs dancing
like separate tongues
trying to lick the sky.
We shipped our last load of Wagyu X calves to Snake River Farms on Tuesday as we continue to gather and wean our Angus calves. Both cows and calves have done well despite the extremely dry spring, in part because of our heavy culling that cut our cow herd by a third after only six inches of rain the year before. With drought across the Western US, cow numbers are down everywhere resulting in a stronger market than we’ve seen in years. With unpredictable weather, higher costs for grain and inflation, we may be raising beef we can’t afford to eat.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged cattle, cows, Drought, Dry Creek, photography, poetry, rain, Snake River Farms, Wagyu X Calves, weather
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