The Lazy Boyz Want Rain!

The other day T and I were picking up wood in The Enchanted Forest and our usually shy Lazy Boyz came to watch us work.

Actually, they were looking for a handout. We've only fed them hay when the temps have been low or there was too much snow, but they remembered.

The only green and growing grass on the ranch is along the creek, but because we haven't had enough rain (yet), the rest of the place just has last year's leftovers. It's food and they aren't getting skinny, but it's dry and crunchy, not green and juicy.

And dry grass is boring! "Hey, bro!" say the Lazy Boyz. "Give us some hay!"

Seriously, ranchers with big herds of cattle are selling them early because there's not enough grass. We are lucky to have grass left over from last year and to only have a "herd" of two cattle.  To feed hay to a large herd would cost way too much.

That's why the price of your steaks is going up and will continue to go up during this drought. It costs more to feed cattle when there isn't enough grass or hay. Supply and demand and all that.


The typical conversation around here always starts with, "We need rain." And yes, we do, not only to feed the livestock and keep the rivers and creeks flowing, but also to help the firefighters who are working their hearts out to protect people, animals and property in the path of wild fires.

Pray, do a rain dance, or just send up your watery thoughts. The southwest needs rain!

Where There's Smoke....

Wildfires are an omnipresent fact of life in the Southwestern United States, so moving to New Mexico didn't change that part of our lives one bit. At least we moved out of earthquake land. (I say that cringing a bit because I don't want to jinx this place.)

What's different here is the way smoke moves. In Southern California, where we lived up until a year ago, we usually smelled smoke or experienced raining ash when a fire was within 10 or 15 miles or when we could see flames. Smoke meant fire, so we'd move into fire watch mode. When Pat and Ric lived up the hill from us, I could call Pat, who had a police and fire scanner. Up to date news, courtesy of the neighbors.

 The first time smoke rolled into our Northern New Mexico canyon, I freaked out, searching the internet for fire info, certain that a fire was nearby. I didn't believe the official New Mexico fire information site because the closest fire they had listed was 100 miles away. I tuned to the local radio station, the one that plays Hank Williams, Johnny Cash's brother and Kitty Wells, but there was nothing there, either.

Why does the smoke travel so far? "It's wind," Tom said, wisely. And it's as good an answer as any, so I will go with it. I have a hard time when Tom acts smart, but I will give him credit this time.

At times this is "get a respirator" smoke, thick ash raining down when all we want to do is eat an al fresco meal on the deck. Then I wonder where the people of Los Alamos are eating their dinner and I stop getting all uppity.

This was the view from our deck Sunday evening when we were eating dinner. That's smoke, not rain clouds.

 So I keep scanning the skies, checking the internet, and listening to Patsy Cline, hoping the rains will come soon.