
2.
Drought and dust,
pandemic and the masks
we need to breathe and feed—
day’s end cloaked in smoke
and gin—how tough are we
and every living thing
looking to escape
to a Li Po poem
and Chinese tapestry?
2.
Drought and dust,
pandemic and the masks
we need to breathe and feed—
day’s end cloaked in smoke
and gin—how tough are we
and every living thing
looking to escape
to a Li Po poem
and Chinese tapestry?
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, dust, KNP Complex fire, pandemic, smoke, Windy Fire
1.
I can taste the pines and cedars when I awake
to fuzzy black to search for stars
beyond, hoping for a clear day.
Choking smoke with my coffee,
with feeding cows and first-calf heifers
calving, faded coyotes close.
Ash falls like snow, skiffs light and dirty.
In this haze, it’s easy to get lost at home.
I track my steps to where I’m from.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2021, Ranch Journal
Tagged ash, KNP Complex fire, smoke, Windy Fire
Three days ago, this second-calf heifer (9061) was fighting two coyotes off her newborn Wagyu X twins. I got a call from a neighbor who saw the action from the road, but I was 15 minutes away checking our first-calf heifers. I called Robbin who was getting ready to leave for a dentist appointment. She jumped into the Kubota and sent them packing.
Usually twin calves for a young cow is a curse, wherein most cases she abandons the weaker one. If she tries to raise them both, it typically taxes her so much that her poor shape keeps her from cycling to breed back. By themselves near the house this morning, I took out some alfalfa while the rest of the cows were still on the hill. Here the calves are playing while she has an early breakfast in our fourteenth straight day of smoke from the KNP Complex fire in Sequoia National Park and Forest.
I think they’ll make it now.