Tag Archives: grass

SULPHUR PEAK 3,448′

Posted on February 26, 2023 by | 9 comments

 

Your robe’s frozen sleeve

reaches the creek once again,

my unending friend,

 

you carry both storm

and heaven on your shoulders

when I reflect up—

 

face unwavering

beneath sun and starlit night

always in the morning.

 

______________________________________

 

It’s been interesting weather, now half-way through our rainy season, over 18 inches of rain after a decade of drought.  Already whispers from the loudest drought complainers for relief as these hills leak crystal rivulets again. 

 

We lost a month in time in January to the Atmospheric River during branding season, and now with nearly 3 inches in the past 3 days and 3 inches more forecast for the next three, it will be at least a week before we can get to our upper country to brand the last bunch, putting us close to the middle of March.  These calves will be big, a handful.

 

The Paregien Ranch ranges from 2,000 to 2,600 with its own light blanket of snow now, time-released moisture soaking into the clay and granite ground that leaks down the smooth rock waterfalls of Ridenhour Canyon, adding to Dry Creek that peaked at 684 cfs last night, that probably washed out some of our watergaps replaced after January’s peak flow over 3,500 cfs.

Job security, but patience until we can get there—you can’t fight Mother Nature, just try to adapt and face the consequences—fully enjoy her luxuriant and persistent presence after so much needed moisture.

 

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Posted in Haiku 2023, Photographs, POEMS 2023, Ranch Journal

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GOOD FORTUNE

Posted on November 10, 2022 by | 1 comment

 

After a slow three-day rain,

clay dust dark brown and firm,

we think we see a tinge of green

 

before wet seed has time to burst

with open-handed cotyledons

through the saturated dirt.

 

Yesterday, on the optometrist’s screen

I see my eyeballs and optic nerves

that anticipate such good fortune:

 

bare ground, sloping hillsides

carpeted with short green—

a start to change our luck.

 

                                    for Terence Miller

 

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Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal

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MAYPOLE

Posted on February 15, 2022 by | 2 comments

 

The dark hole in the barn

that once was leafy, fine-stemmed alfalfa

for six-months feeding, rides on a rain

 

as wildflowers get ahead of the green

making color, making seed—a spectacle

that will eclipse the hopes and dreams

 

that drew us to this tipping point in time.

Seems we’re always on the cusp of perfect

storms, praying for enough that we might

 

meld into the wealth of these steep slopes

we belong to, marvel at the cattle

and forget about the money and the market

 

for a moment as we and our old neighbors

hold invisible hands and hobble around

the maypole to appease our pagan genes.

 

 

2 Comments

Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal

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THE GOOD SIGNS

Posted on January 2, 2022 by | 1 comment

There were no wild turkeys here

when we were boys—no Great Egrets either

mimicking Blue Herons

statuesque in the pasture

waiting for the earth to move

a varmint cleaning house after rain.

 

Scattered atop the ridges,

we haven’t seen the cows and calves

in weeks, the young bulls longer

through December rains.

They don’t need us now,

they don’t need hay.

 

Lifeline of the canyon, the creek

arrived on Christmas Eve

running muddy, coloring the river

with streaks of chocolate

under the new bridge

it took years to finish.

 

And when the Tule fog

leaps and claws up canyon

like a lion to wrap us in a gray

cocoon that shuts the world away,

there’s nothing to do but wait

until the sun burns it off.

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Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022

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CHRISTMAS GIFTS

Posted on December 30, 2021 by | 1 comment

Long dark shadows in the canyons,

cattle hard to see.  They don’t need us now,

heads down somewhere on the mountain,

 

ground too wet to help them anyway—

all the excuses I need to write poetry.

We fed hay all last year, filled the barn

 

three times waiting for a rain. These Christmas

storms: miracles to rejuvenate the earth

for man and beast, birds and insects,

 

steep hillsides begging to explode in leafy

salad greens—iridescent gifts in the sunlight,

like the old days, for years in a row that

 

have since gone dry and farther in between.

Nothing stays the same, just ask the skeletons

of old oaks where the natives ground acorns.

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Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal

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Rain and Snow

Posted on December 15, 2021 by | 4 comments
Sulphur Peak

2.16” of rain the past two days and snow down to about 2,000 feet yesterday have been a game changer for Robbin and me.  So long dry, it’s not been easy to think in any other terms than drought, but we’re getting there as the south and west slopes fill in with green.  Forecast for more rain on the way through Christmas. 

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JUST IN TIME

Posted on November 9, 2021 by | 4 comments

Gray silver rain,

burnished coins

upon the green—

first leaves of filaree

like faces waiting,

hands open expectantly.

 

The ground sighs

just in time and we,

with wood stacked,

breathe freely now

 

as cows down from ridgetops

collect babies waiting

for breakfast

and old enough to listen

for their mother’s voice.

 

She slipped easily away

under clouds like these.

I hear phrases now—

her knowing

and all her demons

haunt me delightfully,

words that fit

and suddenly

become my own.

 

She would be pleased for us,

gray silver rain

upon the green.

4 Comments

Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal

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MARCH GRAZING UPDATE

Posted on March 28, 2021 by | 8 comments

Despite the welcome 1.5” of rain this month, bringing our total rainfall for the season on Dry Creek to a meager 6”, our grass is short and thin, especially on the south and west slopes of our lower foothill country.  Unless we get some well-spaced rains in April, we will wean our calves early, probably weighing 50 lbs. lighter than usual.  With limited stockwater and no dry feed to carry our cows through summer, fall and to an unknown beginning of our rainy season, we will have cull our cow herd deeply.  A strong high pressure ridge, typical of La Niña, is blocking storm activity to California and the rest of the West. Furthermore, market returns for cattle producers are stuck in an unsustainable range, in part due to Covid-19.  

After a wonderfully fun day helping Kenny and Virginia McKee brand their calves in Woolley Canyon yesterday, Robbin and I are moving slowly as we recuperate by enjoying the colors of spring in the gathering fields around us. The lush appearance of the Fiddleneck and Popcorn Flowers in the photo below is deceptive as they have little nutritional value for cattle, but they do shade the ground and help hold what moisture we have. 

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Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal

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LAST CHANCE

Posted on March 10, 2021 by | 8 comments 








Another round of Blue Oak


from the limb droughts have cured


to fall with a crash in the yard—




after the calves were marked


and friends were fed and gone,


you and I and a bottle of wine




before the fire we cooked upon


waiting for the pillowed clouds


to collect and turn dark gray—




our forecast rain.  Tough filaree


looks like the dirt it’s hanging on,


leaves red and brown and in between—




last chance for feed this spring.


One wonders why we do this


to become the grass we need.

















							

	
			

				
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						Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021					

								
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MARCH 1, 2021—SHORT-CROPPED GREEN


			

				Posted on March 3, 2021 by  | 1 comment
			


				

				






When I was young I wished
for longer springs and hillsides 
painted with wildflowers,
 
grass belly-high and every canyon
running water—livestock grazing
pastoral notions, heavenly eternal.
 
I may have to stand in line 
on the trail to mountain pastures
when I shed this human coil,
 
but hope to hell that the majority 
of souls will be waiting 
at the Pearly Gates instead.



							

	
			

				
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						Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal					

								
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