Tag Archives: rain

Mud from head to toe
before the bus to school,
how could I know

I’d never bring it home—
never be the hero
of black and white westerns.

But a lifetime chasing rainbows
has been enough
without the pot of gold.

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Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal

Tagged Dry Creek, photography, poetry, rain, rainbows, weather

WAITING ON A BLUE EVENING

Posted on February 19, 2024 by John | 3 comments

Despite the advance of new scientific instruments utilized for weather modeling, this year’s Atmospheric River phenomenon for Central California hasn’t followed predictions. However, we have enjoyed beautiful weather and average rainfall standing currently at 10 inches with March and April yet to go. Last summer seemed cooler, fall and winter warmer with yesterday’s high reaching 71 degrees.

Robbin snapped this photo about the time the deluge was forecast to arrive yesterday evening, but it didn’t start raining until 3:00 this morning. I love the rainy days, almost always smug when the experts are wrong.

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Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal

Tagged Atmospheric Rivers, forecasting, photography, rain, weather

REVISITING RIP VAN WINKLE

Posted on February 2, 2024 by John | 2 comments

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.

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Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, Ranch Journal

Tagged Atmospheric River, Dry Creek, lightning, photography, Pineapple Express, poetry, rain, thunder, weather

Atmospheric Rivers Clean-Up

Posted on January 24, 2024 by John | Leave a comment

With a couple of “burn days” between rain showers this week, we’ve lit the piles of debris and deadfall that settled here where the canyon widens that were brought down with last spring’s atmospheric rivers. With air quality a concern in the San Joaquin Valley, burn days can be hard to come by. Not only are we reducing hazardous fuel in the event of a wildfire, but eliminating the limbs, mostly sycamore that burn quickly compared to oak, we saved our watergap fences between pastures and neighbors when Dry Creek rises again. Lastly, we’ve eliminated a potential logjam at McKay’s Point where part of the Kaweah River is diverted to the St. John’s fork that ultimately passes north of Visalia.

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Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal

Tagged Atmospheric Rivers, burn piles, debris and deadfall, photography, rain, weather

RIDGELINE

Posted on January 3, 2024 by John | Leave a comment

A bustling world of change

with all its shenanigans beyond

the renewed green after rain,

beyond the ridgeline that has stayed

the same for a thousand lifetimes,

ever since Tro’khud, the Eagle

and Wee-hay’-sit, the Mountain Lion

shaped a body from clay

and baked it in the house of tules

they had set afire. Then put a piece

of him in a basket and set it beside

Sho-no’-yoo spring to become his mate.

They made mistakes like paws for hands

they had to change—but for a moment

they were safe this side of the ridge.

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Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry

Tagged change, Dry Creek, green, photography, poetry, progress, rain, weather, Yokuts Creation Myth

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Posted on January 1, 2024 by John | 12 comments

I’s been a great week between Christmas and New Years with Robbin’s brother Joe here to help out cutting wood, splitting oak, hanging gates, cleaning-up the Horehound, Turkey Mullein and tumbleweeds along the driveway, not to mention vehicle maintenance while getting 0.34″ slow rain that has revitalized our green. We’ve taken time-out around the BBQ fire pit with Bloody Mary’s and a Mexican Coffee to celebrate our accomplishments.

Though I would have liked the rain to come a month earlier, the weather’s been perfect, rain spaced well with warm temperatures as the canyon has turned from blond dry feed to green. The cows and calves have moved to the softened ground uphill to get a bite of both as we watch the virgin Red Angus bulls, close-by, fumbled their way to breeding postures. As Robbin quips, “It’s a wonder we get any calves at all.”

This is what we work for, an uncertain future, and wish you all a joyful 2024 !!

12 Comments

Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal

Tagged celebrate, cows and calves, Dry Creek, green, new feed, New Year's, perfect, photography, rain, weather

SLEEPING BEES

Posted on December 23, 2023 by John | 3 comments

A bower for sleeping bees,

the ground begs softly

beneath the burning trees

to foster cotyledons

and change the canyon green.

No cars on the road,

silence weighs heavily,

not a bird or bull’s bawl

to claim the open space

that’s come alive.

The gray sky witness

floats in a cloud-fog

damp and undemanding

as the long pause of winter

moves into a new beginning.

3 Comments

Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal

Tagged bees, Dry Creek, fog, photography, poetry, rain, silence, sycamores, weather

WINTER SOLSTICE 2023

Posted on December 22, 2023 by John | Leave a comment

A few blue clouds float

upon a light gray sky

above Barnaphy after

the surprise last gasp

of a cut-off low

cruising south to flood

California’s coast—

a warm forty hundredths here

brings a tinge of green.

Sycamores like torches afire,

not quite ready to undress

their long white limbs

intertwined, plump Rockettes,

our native chorus line

burns along the creek.

The cattle stay high,

all but a hopeful clutch

spurn the feed grounds.

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Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal

Tagged Dry Creek, Fire, photography, poetry, rain, sycamores, weather, Winter Solstice

FULL CIRCLE

Posted on December 17, 2023 by John | Leave a comment

The poem has been ricocheting inside my head as we reconstructed a portion of the Paregien corrals last week to accommodate a calf table to brand our calves. Roads impassable for a crew, we were unable to brand our calves last year due to last winter’s Atmospheric Rivers, so we borrowed a calf table to try.

I grew up with a calf table, pushing calves up the chute at six or seven to my Dad and one other man to cut, brand and vaccinate. Part of the poem is how I’ve come full circle in a 70-year span, with lots of branding pen bravado in between. There is no substitute to be a horseback and roping calves to brand, but I’ve outlived my dependable horses and my hands have slowed with age.

Part of the poem would be my excitement as a boy to be asked to help brand, even though my shins would be kicked with calf shit up the front of my pants. Details like my Dad’s red bone Case carbon steel stockman’s he constantly sharpened on a small whetstone that he carried in his pocket. The one he thought he left at the corrals after cleaning it, only to find it on the running board of the old International pickup after driving 20 miles to the corrals and back.

Thanks to the Fry family for their essential help with the reconstruction, and with yesterday’s branding—just before, we hope, will be our first taste of El Niño.