
Flash after flash above
a steely barrage of pellets—
an opaque torrent of gray rain
cut by the crack of thunder
as if the gods were falling timber
or sawing logs—
or just inebriated
in the mountains
playing nine pins.

Flash after flash above
a steely barrage of pellets—
an opaque torrent of gray rain
cut by the crack of thunder
as if the gods were falling timber
or sawing logs—
or just inebriated
in the mountains
playing nine pins.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, Ranch Journal
Tagged Atmospheric River, Dry Creek, lightning, photography, Pineapple Express, poetry, rain, thunder, weather

After the lightning
igniting fires, after the storm,
a new day dawns
with hope
and a hint of change
from the blistering summer heat
with the equinox knocking
at the door, I think
of all the jobs earmarked
for years—our growing list
of work we’ve saved
for rainy days.
The prognosticators
are unusually quiet,
don’t dare say
when to expect a rain.
I keep adding to a list
that will outlive me.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged clouds, dawn, fires, lightning, rainy day jobs
Summer harbinger:
a lightning strike beckoning
red shiny engines.
151,493 acres
85% containment
Last evening, a small lightning strike just before, dark half-mile from the house, as monsoonal moisture sailed up the west side of the Sierras. Easily accessible, we count our blessings.
Neighbor Tony Rivas had the fire pretty-much corralled with his shovel by the time I arrived with the skid steer. Another neighbor, Chuck Fry, had the gates unlocked for the CDF insuring we didn’t have to fix fence when the fire was out. Still flashing in the mountains this morning, 0.09″ rain.