Tag Archives: weather

EARLY SPRING

Posted on February 18, 2015 by John | 5 comments

Goldfields – February 16, 2015

Warm hillsides melting
the Ides of February
in puddles of gold.

WPC(4) — “Symmetry”

5 Comments

Posted in Haiku 2015, Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal

Tagged Drought, Goldfields, Greasy Creek, haiku, photographs, poetry, weather, weekly-photo-challenge, wildflowers

Journal: February 2015 — Seven Pix

Posted on February 17, 2015 by John | 9 comments

Robbin and I went to the Paregien Ranch Sunday to check the cattle, feed, and rain gauge since the storm on the 7th, 8th and 9th. An 1.43″, which was more than anywhere else on the ranch. We’re still trending warm and dry with wildflowers blooming a month earlier than normal, the poppies above and below in Ridenhour Canyon.

Despite the lush look of spring, there is no rain in the forecast for the rest of the month with temperatures in the mid-70s. We’ll be needing another rain soon or it will be a short grass season. Nevertheless, the cattle are doing well, both cows and calves, taking advantage of early and strong feed.

Looking ahead, we shut the cattle out our new gathering field to give the grass a chance to grow before we wean, which is normally in May — but it may be March or April if it doesn’t rain.

Checking on the Windmill Spring, we were greeted enthusiastically by our independent ‘Little Buddy’ who can be seen helping us cut firewood Here and helping me plumb a trough Here before he was branded and tagged in December.

Though it appears that we’re both having a drink, I was blowing on the overflow pipe to unplug it. Of course, our ‘Little Buddy’ was well aware of the hay in the back of the Kubota.

9 Comments

Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal

Tagged Calves, cattle, cows, Paregien Ranch, photographs, rain, rain gauge, Ridenhour Canyon, water, weather, wildflowers

Ode to the Crew 1: Six Pix

Posted on February 13, 2015 by John | 9 comments

We set the ‘point and shoot’ on the branding table, the following were shot by several different people.

There is no easy tribute to good neighbors necessary in the branding pen, whether horseback or on the ground. Trading labor is part of our culture, and the work’s not done until everyone’s calves are branded and vaccinated. Towards the tail end of the branding season, our last bunch of calves were big, which makes Robbin and I happy of course, but it also means harder and more dangerous work for everyone.

Our gather to brand in Greasy began Sunday, over a week ago, interrupted by welcome rain that kept us from finishing the process until last Tuesday — some cows and calves had spent eleven days in out Gathering Field waiting for yesterday. Additionally, wood had to be cut for the branding and cook fires, and the weeds in the corral, nearly two-foot tall, had to be addressed with a weed-eater before we were ready.

It was a long day, shirtsleeves weather, warm in the mid-70s.

Always some exciting moments, even though everyone tries to be respectful and gentle with the calves, some were a handful, pushing 500 pounds.

Calm and steady, we have acquired an efficient routine of ropers and ground crew. Divided into two groups of ropers so arms and horses have time to rest between bunches, there’s always time to visit.

9 Comments

Posted in Photographs, Ranch Journal

Tagged branding, Calves, cows, Greasy Creek, neighbors, photographs, weather

OLD NEIGHBORS

Posted on February 12, 2015 by John | 10 comments

                        By the excellence of his work the workman is a neighbor.
                        By selling only what he would not despise to own
                        the salesman is a neighbor. By selling what is good
                        his character survives the market.
                              – Wendell Berry (“Prayers and Sayings of the Mad Farmer”)

We wish success for all our neighbors, fat
calves and money enough to buy good bulls
looking for work on our side of the fence,
and ours on theirs, despite best intentions.

Today, old neighbors come to help brand calves
with respect—rope, stretch and vaccinate
rambunctious children to a slow waltz—
to share the bounty of our heritage

despite the drought, despite the cows
we had to sell to save the others
and ourselves. Character upon this ground,
we have survived weather and the market.

10 Comments

Posted in Poems 2015

Tagged "Prayers and Sayings of the Mad Farmer", Calves, cows, Drought, Dry Creek, Mad Farmer, neighbor, neighbors, poetry, rain, weather, Wendell Berry

METAL ROOFS

Posted on February 11, 2015 by John | 11 comments

                        Let me wake in the night
                        and hear it raining
                        and go back to sleep.
                              – Wendell Berry (“Prayers and Sayings of the Mad Farmer”)

The lullaby that soothes my brain,
a metal roof under rain, proof
of gods and goddesses on the job

while I rest completely—let night
take me unafraid anywhere it wants
until the glistening of puddled mornings

blind me with glimpses of paradise
upon this earth, wet and wanting
nothing more from rustic religions.

Every church should acoustically angle
its spires and ridgelines to accentuate
these heaven’s gifts—and to withstand

retribution’s thunderous roar while
renting and gnashing huddle beneath
the storms that flood the rivers muddy.

We are not the architects, nor the nomads
chasing rain from place to place with herds
anymore. We pray instead for basic

sustenance to run upon and off our roofs,
season after season—no two the same—
to wake in the night and hear it raining.

11 Comments

Posted in Poems 2015

Tagged "Prayers and Sayings of the Mad Farmer", Drought, Dry Creek, Mad Farmer, Metal Roofs, poetry, rain, water, weather, Wendell Berry

GOOD LUCK FISHING

Posted on February 10, 2015 by John | 2 comments

                         Don’t pray for the rain to stop.
                         Pray for good luck fishing
                         when the river floods.
                                – Wendell Berry (“Prayers and Sayings of the Mad Farmer”)

And we will fish reflection pools
with Egrets and Great Blue Herons, wade
cloudy skies when the creek subsides

listening to the glorious chorus of tree frogs
croaking symphonies from fresh verdancy—
the canyon clean, all tracks erased

but for the moment to begin again.
What better luck can any god offer
a mad farmer, or mankind?

April 1968: my feet wet with fishing
the great white limbs of sycamores,
naked canopies reflected below me,

recording fresh soliloquies on war
that have not changed but for poetic
editing each time the creek rises—

hope still claims high water marks
beyond the creek bank, despite
clear-cut scars upon this landscape

after a decade’s invasion of machinery
from towns craving to become cities.
We pray yet for good luck fishing.