All-day tryst in the middle
of milling cattle upon the green,
it could be spring in December—
good sign after two dry years of hay,
something normal like bucks in rut.
Mounting and breeding surround us,
black bulls weave through the bunch
with urgent optimism and aplomb.
No forecast fog, rain, or snow.
Monday gather. Tuesday picnic
upon the green with the neighbors
bringing horses to brand some calves.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014, Ranch Journal
Tagged branding, buck, bucks in rut, Calves, cows, deer, doe, Paregien Ranch, photographs, poetry, weather, wildlife
She knows her wood
and how long it will last—
loves Blue Oak coals
and the Live Oak with little ash.
Redwood splinters for an ember,
Manzanita for heat and flame,
she keeps a never-ending fire
three months warm each year.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Blue Oak, Calves, firewood, Paregien Ranch, photographs, poetry, wood stove
With no worries about stockwater nor under the gun to feed cattle everyday, Robbin and I went to the Paregien Ranch Saturday to check on the bulls we put out Monday and to cut a Kubota load of stove wood ahead of the rain forecast for Tuesday and Wednesday.
The grass is fading in places but the cows are holding up fairly well with growing demand from their calves. What feed we have lacks strength, but with our reduced numbers, the cows are staying full.
We were a curiosity to a couple of bull calves, approaching three months old, as we cleaned up a dead tree near the solar pump that we installed this summer. Robbin took pictures while stacking the brush.
Liking the smell and taste of the wood chips and sawdust, I was worried that they might try to lick the chain saw blade.
Just checking on our cows and calves and cutting wood are the fun jobs we haven’t had the time or luxury to enjoy,
and getting comfortable with relaxing seems to come in stages after virtually two years of feeding and trying to keep the nucleus of our cow herd intact. But we made real progress towards becoming human again over our fun-filled Thanksgiving weekend.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged bulls, Calves, cows, cutting wood, Drought, fun, Paregien Ranch, photographs, rain, stove wood, Thanksgiving, water, weather, Widgeon
Time for a shower,
a quarter, a tenth.
I have the next rain
at my fingertips—
the hunt and peck,
scroll of percentiles
dialed-in
hour by hour
of the good stuff I want—
that naked clay needs
to stay alive.
Nothing’s changed.
We all hang on a forecast—
cuss the messenger
who gets paid
when he’s wrong
or claims he’s right.
It is our nature
where a man’s word
is everything.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, Paregien Ranch, photographs, poetry, rain, weather, weathermen
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014, Ranch Journal
Tagged haiku, Paregien Ranch, photographs, poetry, rain, San Joaquin Valley, weather, weekly-photo-challenge
Day and night comes much the same
as an evening of time—not ticked,
but slurred one word into the next
like a soloist might his octaves
into prolonged song. Soft and low
at first, a rumbling from a dusty
cave of lungs, a subtle clearing
of the passageways for all things
since the common miracle of rain.
Well-short of whole, she learns
to breathe again, her heartbeat sure
awakens color deep within her flesh
for the moment, and then the next
until she’s fit for more natural activities,
more normal rules for mortals to abide
in her simple service and generosity.
It’s an old tune we have forgotten,
a harkening of high notes for sopranos
and baritones to blaze before us
as she awakens. Dark or light, her each
new breath is ours come back to life.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Drought, Dry Creek, Paregien Ranch, photographs, poetry, rain, water, weather, wildlife
Blazing summer between calves,
grazing our world
with clean water to drink.
Posted in Poems 2014, Ranch Journal
Tagged cows, Drought, haiku, Paregien Ranch, photographs, poetry, water, weather
Dogs bark into the early morning blackness,
up-canyon scent of something feline, half-bayed
young lion in the oaks to rock piles arched—etched
in their minds, they become a pack of oddities
standing-off coyotes, rousting coons from the garden,
escorting possums and skunks—we know their bark.
Your Beagle inheritance, inside fat, old and waddling,
following his nose to new frontiers beyond a life
on the couch, instincts fired to chase and bay
sharp claw or teeth he’s never dreamed before,
barks in his sleep—deep furrows in his derrière.
The dark stranger, jumpy, blockheaded Queensland
slinks and investigates the far water trough
every evening for smells—fell out of a cowboy
pickup and moved-in waiting to be found
likes his soft outside bed more than anything. Just
how they admire your Border Collie Jack-the-Good-Dog
keeps them lined-out circling the house.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014, Ranch Journal
Tagged dogs, Dry Creek, garden, Paregien Ranch, photographs, poetry, water, wildlife
Blue Oak mama,
belly full of young dryads—
let the dancing begin.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Blue Oaks, dryads, Greek Mythology, haiku, Paregien Ranch, photographs, poetry, tree nymphs, wildlife
We’ve accomplished much this week with son Bob spending some of his vacation time on the ranch, yesterday helping me install a new water trough on the Paregien Ranch to utilize our new solar pump. Ever optimistic, we anticipate some fence work for the gathering field it will serve when it rains enough to soften the ground to dig and drive posts.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, Paregien Ranch, photographs, rain, water
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