Highwater debris,
enough to measure peak flow
gauging stations miss.
We’ve begun naming creeks
that flood the dry draws,
pull nominees from our histories
while exchanging guffaws.
We have become the helpless
prisoners of the weather,
of flatland floods and saturated mud,
resisting cabin fever.
Roads and fences, trees to cut,
our work comes to a halt—
no need to fuss, cows don’t need us
with water, grass and salt.
Posted in Haiku 2023, Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged cabin fever, Dry Creek, flood water, haiku, helpless, humility, mud, photography, poetry, rain, runoff, water, weather
We never quite know
how our negligence
is ultimately received.
Somewhere upstream,
a tire too close to the creek,
became humor and irony
tumbling downstream
to balance and settle
with the flood debris—
a perfect amount
of seasoning for
a State of Emergency.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, Ranch Journal
Tagged brush catchers, Dry Creek, flood debris, high water, humor, irony, jetsam, photography, poetry, rain, weather
With a break in the weather, we, with the help of our neighbors and their equipment, began addressing the plugged culverts that were spilling flood water across Dry Creek Rd. Though we had cleaned the debris from this culvert after the first Atmospheric River, it became impacted with sand with subsequent rains. Essentially, the culvert is too small for these kinds of events and with so many flooding issues in Tulare County, we are low on their priority list.
All in all, we cleaned out three culverts yesterday, two of which have needed attention for years. The weathermen have downgraded the amount of rain to expect in coming days, but on top of the 1,000 cfs already flowing down Dry Creek canyon, its impact rides with the intensity of those rains.
We’re ready as we can be and doing what we can without getting off the asphalt and getting stuck.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Atmospheric River, community, culverts, Dry Creek, flood water, neighbors, photography, rain, weather, yellow iron
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal, Video
Tagged Atmospheric River, Drought, Dry Creek, flood water, photography, rain, weather
Dry Creek:
2.28″ @ 6:00 a.m.
6,000+ cfs (extrapolated) @ 8:00 a.m. (Dry Creek running above gauging station not calculated.)
Kaweah River:
26,659 cfs @ 8:00 a.m.
Badger: 4.75″ @ 6:00 a.m.
Kaweah Watershed: https://www.spk-wc.usace.army.mil/fcgi-bin/hourly.py?report=trm
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Atmospheric River, Dry Creek, flood water, photography, rain, water, weather
Safe arms of an oak
support an unruffled pause
for all but the dogs.
Posted in Haiku 2023, Photographs, POEMS 2023
Tagged barking dogs, Bobcat, photography, poetry
1.
Thrum upon the roof,
the creek stretches loudly now,
rain streams day and night
from heaven’s dark skies—
a decade of dreams and prayers
descend upon us.
2.
Our totems come and go to rest
before our eyes, eagles and herons
inspect our souls without asking,
families of quail titter at our feet,
antlers tilt to consider our hunger
in places we mark in our memories.
3.
She doesn’t care, has no compassion
for our self-indulgence, shapes her track
of least resistance embracing landscapes,
rearranging the gravity of facts
we must endure when she leaves us
with fresh metaphors into the future.
Posted in Haiku 2023, Photographs, POEMS 2023, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, Dry Creek, haiku, metaphors, Mother Nature, photography, poetry, rain, snow, weather
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.
Posted in Haiku 2023, Photographs, POEMS 2023, Ranch Journal
Tagged branding, Drought, Dry Creek, grass, green, haiku, Mother Nature, Paregien, patience, photography, poetry, rain, snow, Sulphur Peak, weather
How many jillion rains have washed away
the rodent digs from these exposed intrusions,
lichen-stained, fractured magma rockpiles
changing shape in the sun’s daylight and shadow
to appear to be alive for eons, like a trout
breaching a clay wave, free to see the sky?
Some have seen so much that they have souls.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023
Tagged anthropomorphism, Lichen, magma, photography, poetry, rain, rockpiles, rocks, soul, water, Windmill Spring
After ten dry years, the drought-killed,
dead-standing oaks have shed their limbs
in piles, like clothes at their feet—some
centuries claiming space, offering summer
shade to cows, acorns to a host of hungry
mouths, hidden homes to hawks and lesser
feathered flocks—and have begun to tip
over as the rain-soaked earth lets go
of their decomposing roots to rest
on fences or across the dirt tracks
between us and our children grazing
the ridgetops: like emerald thighs, toes
reaching for the flats along the creek.
Despite the disassembled skeletons
of a generation passing that litters
and melts into the ground, lush canyon
and slope come alive to welcome and beckon
to embrace me for the first time
in a decade—and I overwhelmed, submissive
having spent my penance on unknown sins
I will confess just to prolong this moment.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged anthropomorphism, Drought, Dry Creek, guilt, joy, penance, photography, poetry, rain, weather
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