Golden December–
elk grazing hillsides laid bare
by drought, ground thirsting.
Tag Archives: drought
Elk on the Smylie
Snow after drought
Aspen Alley in the fall
Snow settles on ground
left thirsty by months of drought,
now kissed by moisture.
homestead cabin on Box Creek
Dudley Creek aspens
Open winter; February thaw
This must be the February thaw.
It follows the January thaw, except
not much snow fell between
Aquarius and Pisces.
How will we know Spring?
Heifers on dry ground
she thinks she’s hiding
As storms pound the East Coast, and snow in Boston piles up, we watch our drifts melt away. We depend on snow for winter water for the sheep, and to bring summer moisture for everything. At Powder Flat, all our livestock are watering at reservoirs and wells.
The ewe lambs and old ewes still have a little snow below Lower Powder Spring
The purebred ewes watering at Powder Flat
The ewes watering below the Spring
Reflections
leaving the water hole
through the waterhole fence
Jean Carlos and Pat talk about water, with input from the dogs
Siobhan, Pat and Maeve
Stolen kisses
Sunset, December 29, 2012
Snowflakes brush like kisses
stolen as Old Man Drought
looks the other way
not seeing sweet soft touches
that fall like caresses
filling the spaces
where dry has slowly,
inexorably pushed and sucked
and laid bare the rise and fall
of landscape.
Snow falls and falls
and fills the thirsty land,
the creekbeds and ponds,
the rills and runs of arroyos
dry so long,
now filled with promise
of flood and flash and
a possible future
of spring grass.
A spring that could be
green with feed
for those who hunger–
grasses fed by winter snows
that kiss the earth with wet
and the promise of rain.
Maybe drought’s doom
will not curse us forever.
Maybe these snowflakes
sent like kisses, wet brushes
against our cheeks
portend a promise
of green and grass
and prosperity.
A lover’s kiss.
Take that
Old Man Drought.
Ladder Ranch
