On the weather map
watching the storm slide
slowly down the Sierras,
a green right arm wraps
around San Jose,
counterclockwise,
headed toward this warm
midsection, and I wonder:
with an upper cut of cold?
—wet inch down already,
as if the gods are on a mission
to treat us squarely—
as if there is a plan
to anything,
or just random rolls
we learn to adjust to
moment after moment
never seen before!
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged anthropomorphism, gods, life, storms, weather
The scouts arrive to paint
blue denim skies with fuzzy
promises of rain.
The storms line up
like diesel trucks
in the slow lane,
hills green
and scattered cattle
graze ridgetops.
I had forgotten how
heaven looked,
learning to live
with dust and smoke,
all shades of brown—
years without water.
We cannot reduce
all the ghoulish skeletons
to cordwood, clear
these monuments of oak
from mind or eye.
They will remind us
of who we came to be
to survive
what they could not.
No longer children
chasing rainbows,
we want to believe
the drought is over—
look to the mountains
to shield our souls
from insistent cities
and a world at war.
Like native Yokuts
we want to believe
the ground can hold us
before we leave.
~
A trace of rain up-canyon yesterday afternoon as I looked up from my desk, inside after an 1.5” of rain, sorting poetry for another collection—working title: “The Best of the Dry Years”, 2013, 2014, 2015. A formidable task, like sorting 90 head from 900, it will take many more rainy days to complete.
The photo has that postcard-look of not quite real, a reminder of what a little rain can bring. Yet, I harbor some skepticism, not ready to say the drought is over, to set ourselves up for disappointment. But it sure feels good, nonetheless.
Weekly Photo Challenge(3): “Treat”
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged cities, rain, rainbow, sustainability, war, weather, weekly-photo-challenge, Yokuts
As always, we don’t know
what’s coming
or when, but we prepare
for rain and cold
with odds in our favor.
There is no election,
no debate, no polls.
The fickle gods
write their own rules
and grin like hell
when we object
to their unfairness.
We were gods once
when we were children
with scraps of wood
and leaves for sails
cheering ships
floating down a furrow.
It is nothing, really, but a damp breeze
through the screen door rattling papers
on my desk, clearing the evidence
of last night’s flat bread from the kitchen
before returning to morning black—
light drops on a metal roof.
Fourth dry summer of drought,
it sweeps dust from my brain,
teases hair on my bare chest
as if I were wild, alive again—
as if we might escape this hell,
rinse the taste from our mouths.
Too early to storm, it is nothing, really,
but a damp breeze playing rain—
a few gods revisiting survivors
and the dead—playing with the possibility
of change. Once again, I am reminded
that nothing stays the same.
Pacific Southwest Summary:
Although the early part of the winter season will feature above normal rainfall, the drought will continue as rainy periods will diminish in the season’s second half and precipitation will be below-normal for the winter season as a whole, with below-normal mountain snows not helping ease the drought. The stormiest periods will be in mid- to late November, early to mid-December, early January, and early March. Overall, temperatures will be slightly cooler than normal. The coldest period will be in late December, with other cold periods in early and late January and mid-February.
April and May will be cooler and slightly rainier than normal.
Summer will be hotter than normal, with near-normal rainfall. The hottest periods will be in early June, early to mid- and late July, and early to mid- and late August.
September and October will be slightly cooler than normal, with near-normal rainfall.
Facing continued smoke from the Rough Fire and 110 degrees before week’s end, we’re looking forward to the end of summer.
It’s difficult, after four years of drought, to think in terms of rain. Making preparations for a wet winter may offend the superstitious, or seem contrary to the priorities of recent years, but Daniel Swain’s blog offers a most comprehensive forecast for the coming months. Should California be the target of a “Record-strength El Niño,” its impact on the West may be exacerbated by current and recent wildfires.
83,000+ acres
25% containment
@ Cedar Grove, Converse Basin, Buck Rock Lookout
We track circles on the same ground
through brush and granite rock,
over mountains and down canyons
patched with spooky skeletons
of trees, broken limbs at their feet.
Last year’s blond and brittle feed
folds into dust under foot, under wheel
into decent firebreaks swirling around us
as we check springs and clean water troughs
measured with our eye. We carry hay,
fat cows come running six to the bale
once a week, fresh calves knocking
at the door of a new and wobbly world—
waiting to inhale one hundred degree heat.
Too soon to rain, we plod like cows
in dusty circles, all soft trails
lead to water and shade, or to the hum
of solar pumps in abandoned wells.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged August, broken limbs, Calves, cows, Drought, granite rock, Greasy Creek, Hay, photographs, poetry, rain, water, weather
Some readers of this blog know that August is our weather indicator month for the following three months, 30-day cycles that presumably will intensify into winter when another ninety-day cycle sets up. We track our indicators and wait for confirmation in September, and hopefully storms in October.
Check out the link for current details for weather and fires in California, and a weekend forecast for Northern California.
drycrikjournal 