Tag Archives: weather

March 5, 2022

 

Misting, light snow on Sulphur Peak (3,400’) this morning, we ‘ve enjoyed 1.02” received thus far from the last two days of this season-saving rain—a little more scheduled for today.

 

But it was the 0.48” we received on the 23rd of February that truly saved our grass after 3 months of nothing but a few heavy dews.  The ground was so dry that it sucked all the moisture up by the next day to the extent the mud grips on the feed truck left no tracks.  The grass, that has been so thin in the Flat where we’ve been feeding our first-calf heifers since last July, finally filled in, and now is beginning to grow. Add this inch and we’ll be good to go for three weeks or so, depending on temperatures.

 

Robbin and I, with the help of Allie, Terri and our neighbors, got our last bunch of calves branded on Wednesday before this rain. Due to last year’s heavy culling because of the drought, our bunches were small this year, but the cows and calves looked great.  Whether or not we can make ends meet on so few numbers remains to be seen in the marketplace, now that the weather seems to want to cooperate—we have hope.

 

The third variable to survival in the cattle business has always been politics.  With the world in turmoil because of the invasion of Ukraine and its subsequent impacts, anything can happen to disrupt the marketplace, inflation and the pandemic yet still in the wings. Unresolved issues regarding the implementation of the Sustainable Groundwater Management Act (SGMA), passed by the urban majority in 2014, adds to an uncertain future for all agriculture in California, one that will undoubtedly include foreclosures and lots of litigation for years to come.  Meanwhile, imposed fines and the cost of water may be too great to farm in California if the State has its way, once the richest agricultural region in the world.

 

Nothing stays the same.

Only nothing is normal.

 

 

THREE WEEK REPRIEVE

 

Everyone is happy, I exclaim—

 

half-inch rain after forty-five days without—

grass, trees, birds and animals revived,

the February air full of the future

 

as black cows and calves ascend

the green slopes across the canyon

reaching for the richer ridgetop feed

 

by evening. We raise a glass

to the generosity of all the native

gods and goddesses, to the crow pair

 

robbing nests and the bobcat trailing quail,

the ground re-energized—the vitality of life

spilling right before our eyes.

 

TASTE OF SPRING

 

Christmas storms colored the canyon early,

purple brodiaea, blue lupine, white flakes of snow

upon the green as wildfires of poppies spread

 

slope to slope, mid-February, forty-five days

warm without rain. I used to think I knew

what it took to paint these hills with flowers,

 

like the warm spring rains in ’78

after the drought.  Living here 100 years,

Nora Montgomery claimed she’d never seen

 

so many poppies in this canyon, solid gold—

nor I since. Each a fantasy, no two springs

the same, we live in the 10-day forecast

 

for rain, for grass, for cattle. The Old

Farmer’s Almanac predicts a backwards

spring, growing cooler through April—

 

we never know, and like the cattle

in grazing circles, we plod through time,

always eager for another taste of spring.

 

JANUARY 2022

She foresees an early spring,

winter warm as we brand calves

in the open space between rains

 

this ground and cattle need

as much as we for our sanity.

The finches vie for corners

 

in the post and beams

that hold the roof and summer sun

at bay. Fat ground squirrels play

 

grab-ass, warming-up  

for the real thing, planting seed

for fresh armies of vermin

 

to attack the garden.

Already the love songs

of a hundred coyotes

 

fill our dark canyon

from dusk to dawn—invite

the dogs to sing along.

 

One never knows about the weather—

it can do anything anytime it wants

to make geniuses or fools of us all.

AT SUNSET AFTER CHRISTMAS RAINS

Last flash of limbs

in a pagan dance

as shadows crawl

across the creek

to pull night’s curtain up

into the stars.

 

The canyon has come to life

with promises of spring—

birds and trees are talking

above the bulls’ primal bellowing—

tension spills with energy.

 

Shrill yips and howls

in every draw ignites

another all-night

canine celebration

to exasperate the dogs.

 

Even the old flesh perks up

with fresh strategies,

just in case the market’s up

and we get more rain—

just enough to do it over again.

Winter Solstice – Wagyu X Branding

Though no one dares complain about the rain, we’ve been working towards a branding between storms as the corrals dry out.  Yesterday began cold and foggy as the sun broke through occasionally.

With an exceptional crew of neighbors, it was fun and relaxed for our first branding of the year, a good opportunity for Allie (Fry) Fox to sharpen her skills.  She’s been part of this ranch since she was a baby.

 

It’s always a pleasure having Douglas Thomason in the pen bringing his quiet and calm expertise to the party.  Bodie, his young son below, looks ready to follow in his footsteps.

What a great day!  Robbin and I are thrilled. Thank you all!  With wild and varied predictions of rain (Atmospheric River) through New Years beginning this evening, we’re ready to enjoy the holidays. 

RESILIENT MOON

We make rules

to keep ourselves in line,

orderly before

whatever captain

steers our ship between

calm and storm.

 

Out here

unpredictable weather

calls the tune

we must dance to—

navigate this landscape

come hell or highwater.

 

The rules change

before our eyes—

nothing stays the same

no matter what—

but we were never taught

to quit the game.

THE BOTTLE

Before my time

an empty bottle cast

where there was no road,

 

pink with a lifetime

of blistering sunlight

and I wonder who

 

a horseback threw it

now in the short grass—

legends in these hills,

 

weathered men,

drinkers all

coping with the times—

 

with bankers and buyers

betting on the market

and little chance of rain.

 

Or what couple when

lay naked then

in wildflower sunshine.

 

Not much has changed

except for the price

of a cheap bottle of wine.

AUGUST MONSOONS

Out of the Gulf to rest upon the spine

of the Sierras, run aground on the Kaweahs,

animal shapes spill overboard

 

after marking months of blazing days

since April showers, we watch clouds

and wonder if it rained on Arizona friends,

 

or if it’s pouring now on the Kings

or in the Roaring River Canyon, Rowell

Meadow darkened beneath them.

 

Despite hot monsoon gusts that lift

and twist the dust across the pasture,

pregnant cows sequestered to the shade,

 

we dare to breathe relief as the sun slides

south—split redwood and Manzanita

waiting ready near the woodstove.

Weaning Pen, Day 3

With daylight comes the fretful calls of calves, two miles down canyon from our early morning coffee. By day four they will have stopped bawling for their mothers, another two miles and 2,000 feet in elevation up the canyon. Averaging 650 lbs., these nine month-old calves are not babies, yet miss the only security they’ve ever known.  It is not easy.  We’ve tried fenceline weaning, only to conclude that it prolonged the bawling and the anxiety on both sides of the fence.

We’ve been blessed with cooler weather this week as we gathered the Paregien Ranch to haul the calves off the hill, six gooseneck loads down a steep, 4-wheel drive track to Dry Creek—two hours round trip. Limited to loose part-loads, we have to panel half of the calves forward over the pickup’s back axel to maintain traction, each trip leaving the dirt road a little looser.  The following day, we culled the cows deeply, limited to five or six cows per trip as we prepare for continued drought conditions.

All things considered, we’re pleased with the condition of the calves and cows.  With one more pasture yet to wean, we will wait until the coming hot spell passes with a forecast high of 113°.  We’ve experienced a more volatile pattern (than what once was normal), between highs and lows this June https://drycrikjournal.com/weather/journal-2020-21/ and hope for another cooling trend a week from now.

Meanwhile, we fill the barns with hay today.