We, all of you with me,
travel miles of spring saved
by a thunderstorm—Jeffers’
old violence not too old
to beget new values—
blinding splotches of gold,
bright pancake poppies
a squinted eye can’t absorb.
We are rich, wealthy in places
we cannot spend away
from here, yet want to take,
steal with a camera
to share with the poor
punching clocks, chasing dollars
in corrals they have built.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016, Ranch Journal
Tagged "The Bloody Sire", Ridenhour Canyon, Robinson Jeffers, wildflowers
Delicate bloom unfurling early
to lower angles of a warmer sun
that has drawn the snakes out
into a tall forest of green grass.
The girls spray weeds around
the barns, gates and corrals,
clearing summer’s dry hideouts
where we will travel with work
on our minds—small firebreaks
for the house. We have grown
too old for curled surprises, for
adrenaline leaps that leave us crippled
instead of snakebit. Ingrained routine
that comes with bloom before
weeds go to seed, we look ahead
for some small advantage
in a world we can improve
for those who work closest to us.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016, Ranch Journal
Tagged bloom, snakes, spring, weed spraying, wildflowers
Common Brodiaea, February 13, 2016
Crayons in a child’s hands,
spring is eager to scribble color
upon a greening page,
blue skies without the gray
curlicue cloud-loads of rain—
or like an old woman wise
with too many pots on the fire,
hurried in aromatic steams
to feed us all at once
before summer takes over
our lives. Like cattle pausing
at the gate after trailing flakes
of hay, we are suspicious,
we are afraid supper’s over
before spring has been served
by our idle consideration
that swims in awe of a miracle
we crave the time to digest.
Temperatures in the single digits, we left blowing snow outside Tonopah a week ago in Nevada’s Great Basin. Since we have gathered our last bunch of cows and calves to brand this morning to a forecast high of 76°. Here the hillsides are green, spattered with early patches of golden poppies and fiddleneck, as white popcorn flowers begin to creep up the lower slopes. The visual and mental contrasts from Elko to Dry Creek are startling, two different worlds either side of the Great Western Divide within a week’s time.
Posted in Elko, Ranch Journal
Tagged branding, Great Basin, Sierra Nevada, snow, spring, wildflowers, winter
We leave winter’s ice and snow
on the other side of the Sierras,
find spring colors waiting,
poppies and lupine in canyons,
yellow mustard claiming gentle
slopes of green, green grass.
How we worry with the bloom,
feel the leer of summer peeking
already to forget the drought.
Posted in Elko, Photographs, Poems 2016, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, rain, spring, summer, wildflowers
Blooming immigrants
among common fiddleneck—
new color for spring.
Wet years in the clay
lilies unfurling, drawing
heaven’s attention.
Posted in Haiku 2015, Photographs, Poems 2015
Tagged Calochortus argillosus, flower-friday, Mariposa Lily, wildflowers
Christmas in April,
Wild Cucumber on a dead
Manzanita tree.
Posted in Haiku 2015, Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged Wild Cucumber, wildflowers
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