cold tickles, first frost—
a fine sheen reflects stacked coins–
fog shrouds Sheep Mountain.
Tag Archives: sunrise
Fog over Sheep Mountain; First frost
Solstice
Solstice sunrise
Solstice Sonnet
Season’s end draws, dims, slides down to the rest
of the year, where we await winter sleep,
Day’s end presents sundown, darkened nest
where quiet lures, lulls, to somnolent deep
and tempting dreams, where twilight dusk holds sway.
Dawn comes late, with sparking, shimmering freeze.
Solstice rays shoot beams, arrows into day–
Ancients rose, chanted, begged gods to be pleased
and halt sun’s chariot southering drift,
to change its course, to close its dogged lap.
Prayers intoned, begged for light’s return—strong, swift,
No more creeping darkness, to suck and sap
its sunlit balm. Now incline to summer–
swing past the solstice, past darkness’ slumber.
Sangre de Cristo–Summer of Fire
Red sunrise over Sheep Mountain
Sangre de Cristo,
blood red against the sky,
smoky crimson sunrise
illuminates the dry
and murky landscape,
grey haze that turns to pink,
and throws a rosy glow
to make night’s shadows sink.
Mountains rise ephemeral,
magic light against their rock,
a brief illumination
shows their beauty with a shock.
of this pink and hazy glow
wrought by fires in the south,
fire in the sky,
and fires bred by drought.
Flames that rise and roar
and eat all before their path,
nature and man’s doings
give way before their wrath.
We watch from distant fastness
as smoky fingers curl,
long tendrils reach with greed
to menace with their swirl,
and spread a grim grey threat
to make us tear and choke.
We wear a gauzy veil
of ash and haze and smoke.
It filters through our valleys
where grass stands stiff and dry,
where leaves hang low and thirsty
beneath this pall of sky.
Tales now come to haunt us
of flames that leave a stark
and ancient calling card,
borne aloft by wind and spark.
We watch and wait and fret
that such could be our fate,
while distant matches flare,
in a tinderbox, we wait.
Such thoughts all disappear
with wonder and with awe,
as sunrise works its alchemy,
paints the country with a raw
and glowing pinkwash,
with a brief and fleeting dye.
Sangre de Cristo,
blood red against the sky.
Red sunset over Battle Mountain
Another tough winter (continued)
Ready for the trucks
Here’s more photos from sorting the sheep, Who will head north for the winter and who will stay at Powder Flat? The ewe lambs and the younger ewes go to sugar beets and crop aftermath near Burlington. The older ewes and peewee lambs will receive special care at our Powder Flat ranch.
bravely guarding the sheep
Here’s the truck!
heading up the alleyway
Eamon and Ned, the brand inspector
Seamus in the chute
Seamus and Oscar
horses, sheep and cows, oh my!
Almost Solstice
morning contrail over Sheep Mountain
Winter solstice seeks
Southern-most arc of sunrise,
craving darkness‘ end .
almost solstice sunrise
Grateful
sunirse with the cookhouse bell
the big kids’ table at Thanksgiving
sunrise over Flattop and Lucky Butte
Sorting at sunrise
bringing in the sheep
We sorted two bunches of sheep, starting at sunrise. It was a cold morning, but beautiful.
foggy morning
sheep and crew ready to go
the sheep, the chute, and sunrise over Muddy Mountain
grabbing a snack
clouds building
more clouds
then came the thunderstorm over Muddy Mountain
Trailing Sunrise
Sunrise over the Sierra Madres
As we trail the sheep and the cows onto the Routt and Medicine Bow National Forests, we see a lot of sunrises.
Ladder Ranch
