At the Witching Hour

Witch Creek Fire

Sunburnt Sun

Gray and pink...

Wisp to Wild

Grasping, consuming.

Swirl upward--

A gift to fires

of all fires.

Witch Creek,

Poinsettia,

Paradise 

Cedar,

San Marcos,

Elfin Forest, 

Mount Palomar...

Coco..

Other battles without names.

Burn to the ocean

or Stop at the crest?

Fiery tongues lick cold

Impassive walls.

Left empty and deserted,

Waiting for the end.

Homes and trees

To rest, layer upon layer.

White and Gray.

Green life, now absent,

Arizona

Becomes moonscape

in moments, in hours.

All for 

A Sunburnt Sun,

Fire at its witching hour.

I will read ashes for you, if you ask me,

I will look on the fire and tell you from 

   the gray lashes

And out of the red and black tongues and stripes

I will tell how fire comes and how fire runs 

as far as the sea.

Carl Sandburg Fire Pages

Over the thirty years of living here, we have seen and experienced wildfire. Photos cannot do justice to the horror fire spreads.

Just a few hours ago, smoke rose over the acres north west of us. We smelled the fire before we saw the fire.

Donations to the American Red Cross can be made at: Red Cross Donations

Experiencing Cow Chip Toss First Hand

Identifying a freshly dumped pattie

Chatham Cow Chipping Competition was long over when I visited my brother at his town of Chatham.  As I promised, here are some times that I enjoyed and shared with my brother Don. Do not expect any great thoughts.

You cannot make any of this up. Good times were had by all.

I was active in finding and scooping up the patty.

Notice that the patty is the size of a toilet seat.

Checking product for correct dry and texture
Considering aerodynamic and wind direction.

Disappointment at the failed toss. It went about
7 to 9 feet. Oh, well. Next year.

The patty now lies in my yard. It will disintegrate
in time.  

 My brother Don contacted his friend Gene, who cleared the field of cows for our adventure. The field was loaded with products. We had much product from which to choose.

Don spent a lot of time on farms over his 72

years. He is so much fun to share our

stories and memories.

He also possesses so much knowledge about

livestock and farm life. 

Working on the Chain Gang

Who is the Boss? I am, oh yes, I am.

After work, after the business of life, the team had been eager to settle at the nearest watering hole. It had been a rough day.

Hey, Jim. How did the office manage all that blow back from the big guys up at the top?

"Well, you can imagine, Tom. It blew them all away. I mean, what did they expect when the stink settled down after the clean-up crew took care of the rot?"

"You guys, give it a break. Life never changes for those guys who settle at the top." Co-workers mumbled, nodding in agreement. 

"Big guys at top? They live well, really well. I mean they go to work in their spiffy black suits, leave in their spiffy black suits." Jim growled.

Again, all nodded. The fifth co-worker, Kevin piped up. "I'm exhausted. We complain every day. Can't do anything about them. They can take us down without a thought."

They grumbled and took off for home where family and friends lived. Come sunup, they would be at work. At sundown, they would be lined up again. 

The big bosses were already singing together their raucous out-of-tune songs.

After work, relaxing and complaining

Silently, the crew left, singing songs of their own,

sweet songs.

The bosses in black suits

Singing raucous songs, non-stop songs

Bosses of the sky, bosses of the trees

Otis Redding: Working on the Chain Gang