…and maybe, just maybe she
comes by a different route,
out of the south with moisture
early. I have felt her breath
in the shade of evening
on my face, harbingers
that teeter on imagination
long enough to become
themselves, develop within
the fading light. All this
imagining excites the flesh
and hair. As shadows stretch
between half-naked oaks
on these sepia hillsides—
we start to color dreams.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Drought, Dry Creek, Paregien Ranch, photographs, poetry, weather
Though we don’t leave the canyon often, it’s always fun to speculate about moving to another place, like Victoria where summer temperatures are 25°F cooler than the San Joaquin Valley, where the urban pace is not as urgent as California, where the air is clean and clear. It’s been over a year since we’ve left the ranch on Dry Creek, the dust and drought, the cattle, but in Victoria our daydreams broke free enough to take on details, like trying on new clothes for a decent fit.
Concurrently, I was reading Wendell Berry’s “Imagination in Place”, a collection of essays that exemplify the concept of how belonging to a place can offer a more sustainable vision for it, our community, and ourselves. Reading from Victoria, it was clear that I had not exhausted what was possible on Dry Creek, despite a lifetime of observations, improvements and reams of poetry.
Unbeknownst to us, my daughter Jessica For the Archives who lives on the island of Kauai, was visiting Galiano Island with her husband and son. We’re lucky to see them once a year, so to have them near as the band rehearsed for their show on Salt Spring Island, to pick up where we last left off so effortlessly in a place that was not home to either of us (though Jessica had spent a year on Salt Spring Island) was an interesting mix of exhilarating emotions. We loved it.
Arriving home to the Islands just ahead of hurricanes Iselle and Julio, they were thrown into hurricane prep mode, boarding windows and stowing stuff. But living on a Noni farm with access to well water and a solar pump increased their sense of security, the whole experience enhancing their confidence to ride out most disasters—part of learning to live in a place.
She emails: “Curious how it’s been for you coming home. Sometimes it’s hard to return, other times it feels so good. Sometimes, it’s a little of both.”
It has not been an effort to fall back into the mundane routine of feeding and irrigating, checking stockwater and cows that will begin calving in a couple of weeks. The long shadows of August promise change, the monsoonal thunderheads in the high mountains and the gusts they bring to the canyon excite us to feel young and alive as summer begins its retreat into what we hope will be a normal year of grass and rain. We start over again in a place we know and trust.
Posted in Photographs
Tagged Drought, Dry Creek, Galiano Island, Iselle, Julio, Kauai, photographs, place, rain, Salt Spring Island, Victoria, water, weather, Wendell Berry
My brown-skinned girl,
each dusty draw
seems softer, shadows
linger longer at the dawn
as the sun moves south
down ridgelines.
I begin to hear
the faint sound
of a light rain, early
on the roof—the musty
smell of it awakening
a primal surge of new life
for old veins on guard
for the slightest sign
telegraphed ahead
of a train in my mind
mesmerized by rivulets
finding their own way
to the creek running
into spring. Cottonwoods’
first yellow leaves
gathered by rolling gusts
up and down canyon—
you say you feel it too.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged August, Butchart Gardens, Drought, Dry Creek, photographs, poetry, rain, signs, weather
Mid-San Joaquin summer,
you can set your watch
by cows coming off the pasture
to Valley Oaks at seven-thirty—
back out into the blazing sun
by noon, breezes off the green.
Not one gossipy complaint
among them, chewing cuds,
relishing the timeless shade.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged cows, Drought, Dry Creek, photographs, poetry, time, weather
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Dry Creek, haiku, photographs, poetry, weather, weekly-photo-challenge
Paramount on our minds these past two weeks has been the installation of three solar pumps to help keep our water troughs full. Each well is different, and subsequently each pump and solar panel is a little different, though the principle of utilizing the sun’s ultra violet rays to pump water is the same.
The old well at the Red Corrals was severely impacted by a rock and gravel operation upstream about 12 years ago. Only 26 feet deep, we have pumped 30 gpm with a gas driven centrifugal pump since I was a boy. As a shallow well, it has been supported by the Dry Creek acquifer where bedrock ranges between 10 and 30 feet. However, Dry Creek never got that far downstream this year while a pit in the abandoned rock and gravel operation collects most of the underground flow. We had to install a low volume solar pump and small panel to produce about 1.5 gpm or 90 gallons/hour or about 1,000 gallons/day. On a normal year, we ought to produce 3 gpm.
An inholding we lease near the Paregien Ranch already had a solar setup, though the pump had gone bad. When the hard rock well was drilled, the static water level stood at 55 feet in 400’ hole. When we pulled the pump, the static water level was about 90 feet and the pump set at around 125 feet. In the past, it produced 6 gpm, more than we necessary to keep the trough full, the excess went into a pond. With no tank to fill or float to shut the solar power off, it ran every daylight hour that probably contributed to the pump’s short life. Until a tank and float can be installed, I’ve reduced the voltage to where it is only producing about 2 gpm.
The abandoned hard rock well on the Top of the Paregien Ranch is 220 feet deep and when drilled ran 6 gpm over the wellhead. The tenant who preceded us over-pumped the well for his horticultural activities to the extent it no longer produced. In recent years, it has begun to artesian again, but only drops. We set the first pump at 30 feet, but could not maintain 3 gpm for more than 30 minutes. The second, low volume pump we set at 110 feet. Yesterday morning the pump had shut off when it ran out of water at 3 gpm. According to our calculations, it would take 5 hours to pump the volume of water in the well above the pump if nothing came into the well. Allowing 24 hour recovery time, I’m going back this morning to reduce the voltage to produce 2 gpm to see if the pump can maintain the storage tank and trough. Failing that, we’ll add more pipe, as the pump is designed for low volume at a greater depth.
With the extra water we have produced, the troughs at the Windmill Spring were all full at midday. To revisit past posts about the Windmill Spring see: June 29, 2014 and July 5, 2014
Posted in Photographs
Tagged Drought, Paregien Ranch, photographs, solar panels, Solar pump, water, weather, weekly-photo-challenge
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Drought, Dry Creek, haiku, Hay, photographs, poetry, rain, weather, weekly-photo-challenge
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Drought, Greasy Creek, haiku, photographs, poetry, rain, water, weather, weekly-photo-challenge
After early rounds, we retreat, you and I,
to outside shade as the sun bakes
the earth white, drink hot breaths
of monsoonal air as finches pant on the beam—
and then again to the inside of the house
until the canyon’s shadow is complete.
We retreat, you and I, from the outside
world of wars and treachery, the frenzied
feeding of a fire of fears out there—
an eternal flame to keep from being
afraid of the dark—an instant enlightenment
designed for growth and commerce.
We retreat, you and I, knowing seasons
change—and we endure the heat reaching
into the fuzzy edges of our delirium
watering cattle and garden. We retreat
to one another and wait for the fire
to burn itself out—start over again.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Drought, Paregien Ranch, photographs, poetry, water, weather, world
Too soon to count the summer dawns
remaining, like cattle bunched before the gate,
yet these leftovers of a Gulf monsoon
that invade my sky like dark ships
over the Sierras from where a scattered flotilla
waits for orders, may cloud the day—
steam instead of bake the inhabitants
of this canyon—leave a little crunch,
like vegetables, life for tomorrow.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Drought, Dry Creek, monsoonal flow, photographs, poetry, weather
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