...an apple tree works just fine.
August 14, 2006
relief, finally
I'm mostly pretty optimistic in general, but as each day passed without rain, my hope was drying up. The first day of relief was Tuesday. I was cleaning my studio and noticed a funny little cloud to the East, so I grabbed my camera and went out to take a picture.
Then I turned to the west and saw the thunderhead moving in. The light turned yellow and green and glowing. The towering dark formation was such a contrast, moving in on the blue sky and scattered white wispy clouds. Oh, it was dramatic and wondrous! The first drops of rain were sparse but gigantic. It briefly turned to hail and then settled into a nice downpour.
As the storm passed on, the wind started blowing out of the East and the storm clouds were splendid, lit by the setting sun, luminous in orange and pink.
Mom and dad pulled in just as the rain was stopping, with the new chute (it will get its OWN blog entry). Mom took one look at me and said, "I knew you'd be drenched!". I just can't bear to take cover from the rain - it seems ungrateful somehow.
It has sprinkled every evening since, and though the week's worth probably doesn't even add up to an inch and is hardly going to turn the tides of this drought, it sure as hell feels good.
Then I turned to the west and saw the thunderhead moving in. The light turned yellow and green and glowing. The towering dark formation was such a contrast, moving in on the blue sky and scattered white wispy clouds. Oh, it was dramatic and wondrous! The first drops of rain were sparse but gigantic. It briefly turned to hail and then settled into a nice downpour. 
As the storm passed on, the wind started blowing out of the East and the storm clouds were splendid, lit by the setting sun, luminous in orange and pink. 
Mom and dad pulled in just as the rain was stopping, with the new chute (it will get its OWN blog entry). Mom took one look at me and said, "I knew you'd be drenched!". I just can't bear to take cover from the rain - it seems ungrateful somehow. It has sprinkled every evening since, and though the week's worth probably doesn't even add up to an inch and is hardly going to turn the tides of this drought, it sure as hell feels good.
catastrophic
A few weeks ago the word, for what is now clearly more than a dry spell, was 'catastrophic'. The first time I heard the word, it was almost in a whisper, as if the naming of it would make it more true. Then I started hearing it more often, still not spoken with ease, but with a sense of 'facing the facts'. At one point dad said that if i could conjure up two inches of rain, I could probably retire - he thought he could probably put together a few million dollars from the farmers and ranchers around here who'd give anything for just a couple inches of rain.
The small ponds and lakes around this country are as low as I have ever seen them - many are dried up altogether. Ranchers are working Plan B, preparing for Plan C, and have Plan D in the waiting. The main issue is feed. In a good year, cattle could graze the pastures of the ranch until winter, at which point they'd start feeding the hay that was cut during the summer. With the drought, the pastures don't have enough grazing to last until then. Also as a result of the drought, the hay harvest was smaller than usual. So ranchers have some tough choices to make - buy hay to start feeding earlier (but as a result of the obvious supply and demand, hay prices are sky high this year) or lease ground to move their cattle on once their own grass is gone or work with a farmer to plant a field of feed (turnips are one possibility) to tide the herd over for a few months, or sell cows now and hope for more rain next year. All of these options will result in a considerable loss of profit for the rancher.
The calves were 'preconditioned' last week, which means they were given a round of vaccine to prevent respiratory problems that they're prone to during weaning. Normally, we'd wean in October but waiting that long will be too much stress on the cows, so we'll probably be weaning around the beginning of September. The cows are already carrying their next calf, while still nursing last year's (isn't that incredible!?). The lack of grass could have repercussions into the next generation if we don't cut them a break and wean early.
I can't help but wonder if this is just the beginning of the catastrophe. Is this the beginning, not just of some dry weather, but of a dry climate? It wouldn't take long, in the scope of things, for these fragile prairies to dry up and blow away, taking this way of life with it. Hopefully this it is just a little blip that we must bear and everything will be greener next year.
The small ponds and lakes around this country are as low as I have ever seen them - many are dried up altogether. Ranchers are working Plan B, preparing for Plan C, and have Plan D in the waiting. The main issue is feed. In a good year, cattle could graze the pastures of the ranch until winter, at which point they'd start feeding the hay that was cut during the summer. With the drought, the pastures don't have enough grazing to last until then. Also as a result of the drought, the hay harvest was smaller than usual. So ranchers have some tough choices to make - buy hay to start feeding earlier (but as a result of the obvious supply and demand, hay prices are sky high this year) or lease ground to move their cattle on once their own grass is gone or work with a farmer to plant a field of feed (turnips are one possibility) to tide the herd over for a few months, or sell cows now and hope for more rain next year. All of these options will result in a considerable loss of profit for the rancher.
The calves were 'preconditioned' last week, which means they were given a round of vaccine to prevent respiratory problems that they're prone to during weaning. Normally, we'd wean in October but waiting that long will be too much stress on the cows, so we'll probably be weaning around the beginning of September. The cows are already carrying their next calf, while still nursing last year's (isn't that incredible!?). The lack of grass could have repercussions into the next generation if we don't cut them a break and wean early.
I can't help but wonder if this is just the beginning of the catastrophe. Is this the beginning, not just of some dry weather, but of a dry climate? It wouldn't take long, in the scope of things, for these fragile prairies to dry up and blow away, taking this way of life with it. Hopefully this it is just a little blip that we must bear and everything will be greener next year.
August 06, 2006
just a flower, part 1
Belamcanda chinensis broke my heart.
My grandmother grew so many beautiful flowers. But the heyday of her gardens was about 15 years ago. Then she started "cutting back" - digging up plants and distributing them about the country to friends and folks just getting a flower garden started. Her flowers are scattered all over the Sandhills. But not a single flowerbed on the ranch has been tended (watered, weeded, or noticed) for at least 5 years. So every time I find a flower blooming, it is a little miracle.
And this little lovely was tucked over in the corner of the yard, in the shade of the lilac bushes.
It is called a 'Blackberry Lily' (or Leopard Flower), though it is related to neither blackberries or lilies. If you break open the seed pod, you find a tiny cluster of shiny little black seeds that looks like a blackberry. The flowers and foliage do resemble a lily, though their petite delicacy reminds me more of an orchid. Apparently, there is new DNA evidence that suggests that Belamcanda chinensis is closely related to Iris.
My grandmother grew so many beautiful flowers. But the heyday of her gardens was about 15 years ago. Then she started "cutting back" - digging up plants and distributing them about the country to friends and folks just getting a flower garden started. Her flowers are scattered all over the Sandhills. But not a single flowerbed on the ranch has been tended (watered, weeded, or noticed) for at least 5 years. So every time I find a flower blooming, it is a little miracle.
And this little lovely was tucked over in the corner of the yard, in the shade of the lilac bushes.
It is called a 'Blackberry Lily' (or Leopard Flower), though it is related to neither blackberries or lilies. If you break open the seed pod, you find a tiny cluster of shiny little black seeds that looks like a blackberry. The flowers and foliage do resemble a lily, though their petite delicacy reminds me more of an orchid. Apparently, there is new DNA evidence that suggests that Belamcanda chinensis is closely related to Iris.
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