We trust the rain,
the early stirring of colored leaves,
our synapses electrified
before it leaks from the gray—
storms absorbed, the darkening
of settled dust as the wet thatch
of old feed folds
to hold the damp explosion
of open-handed cotyledons—
renewed miracles of life,
iridescent greens become tall
heads heavy with seed
to feed ourselves and others,
the wild and tame, crazed and sane
denizens of this planet.
We trust in rain.
We pray for rain
and wait.
Posted in Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged photography, poetry, rain, weather
After a brutal summer, we are enjoying a major change in temperature: a high of 87 yesterday and 55 this morning as storms hit the northwest and Canada.
As I’ve posted before, my father’s model for predicting the weather was based on a 30-day cycle beginning with noticeable changes in the month of August. If these changes were confirmed in September, he would count on rain on those days in October and/or November. My brother and I still rely to some degree on his model, but with the volatility of the weather in recent years, it’s anyone’s guess.
We’ve begun feeding as we wait for our first calves to arrive. We’ve moved our calving date back two weeks, from the first to the fifteenth, in response to the trend of high temperatures in early September. Not only is the heat hard on calving cows, but often there’s always a couple of first-calf heifers that leave their newborns in a hundred degree sun.
September also brings the catalogs for bull sales in California that offer a wide array of Genomic Enhanced Expected Progeny Data as well as links to videos of the bulls. I still rely on my eye, but it’s a far cry from the old days when I was starting out.
As the days get shorter, we still expect the temperatures to return to the century mark, but for the moment it’s delightful.
Yesterday’s rain
runs in rivulets
towards the creek
across the shoulder
of the road
and growing traffic—
Pond Turtle shell
glistening still
with all the wild
totems we lay claim to
in our joint accounts.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, photography, poetry, POND TURTLE, rain, TOTEMS
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.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, photography, poetry, rain, rainbows, weather
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.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Atmospheric Rivers, forecasting, photography, rain, weather
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
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.
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Atmospheric Rivers, burn piles, debris and deadfall, photography, rain, weather
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.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry
Tagged change, Dry Creek, green, photography, poetry, progress, rain, weather, Yokuts Creation Myth
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 !!
Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged celebrate, cows and calves, Dry Creek, green, new feed, New Year's, perfect, photography, rain, weather
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.
Posted in Photographs, POEMS 2023, poetry, Ranch Journal
Tagged bees, Dry Creek, fog, photography, poetry, rain, silence, sycamores, weather
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