Busy in the kitchen, second-to-last day of Winter 2017, awaiting Linda’s arrival for her Last Spring Break.
Next day, last of winter,
having recently discovered we own a half share of the “upper eighty” with Dave
we went up under overcast skies for a look. The eighty, which Dave bought along with the land down here in 1994, has a somewhat miraculous spring on it.
As seller John Casey said, “There’s a lot of water in the Buffalo Hills, Dave” …so Dave got first refusals on everything in sight as
vast views abound and after Casey passed an even more elevated
spring with even vaster views came into his possession [along with much else, to the considerable consternation of John’s executor, who’d anticipated grabbing everything in-house and wholesale for his buddies].
We took a look at that one, too, which
overlooked the hanging playa where we’d left the truck.
Said little playa was colonized by bushes during the drought but being early in the season a good and bugless time was had by all.
Then
down to doze and whatnot.
Monday, first day of Spring, began o-cast and dark but
with midday sunshine leaves began Unfurling Visibly in Real Time.
Nothing here stays the same for long as
night rains made morning walking mighty muddy
and
afternoon brought massive showers while I was in the repo putting up 2011,
the Year of the Least Watercolors, but abandoned the effort [63 triptychs take a lot of tacks] for other pursuits until eventually the sun, as they say, burst through.
Wednesday the surviving fishes came out to investigate the intermittent input to their pond after the low restored the artesian flow, Finnegan most persistently
whilst shepherds got their trailer stuck at Wall Canyon first thing…
but managed to extricate, move out and sneak the sheep south by lunchtime…or so we thought.
The watercolor installation [Year of the Least being Most Likely to Fit] was finally completed.
At sunset, without a sheep in sight, a pickup dropped off a pack of vocal dogs
so maybe they’re sequestered up Wall Canyon somewhere; sun set.
On the morning walk, Thursday already,
the sheep were plainly evident, southbound. First band of the season headed for shearing at Espil’s before lambing…a hard life, that of a sheep, having to walk all the way up from Lovelock just to get fleeced and turned loose, naked, onto the desert.
After a last breakfast on the porch L., nearing the end of that Last Spring Break,
took off on down the road
leaving us here in the mud for another two days.
Dogs ‘n’ all.
M
…
Wow and again wow… so beautiful.
More pics of the wall of least please or at least full frontal.
Wish I had some; it’s hard to shoot…will try next time, since it’s so popular!
I agree with Sybil: Beautiful!
And yes, a full frontal of the 2011 63 watercolor triptych display, please….if your lens is wide enough!
I’m stoked about the upper 80. Wondering if you could have driven up there after Monday’s night rain, or would it have been too muddy? Views are amazing; you and Dave may have to build a viewing hut for overnight stays up there. Does “a bugless time” mean the Buffalo Hills will be more buggy the rest of the year?
Love those sunset shots across the playa!
I may have to wait for you to shoot those things; they’re wide and, being in the storage area mainly, obstructed by things…also the clerestories bring in glare from above. Possibly by night, with lights.
As for the eighty, shhh! My immediate fantasy would be for a little retreat structure [not that, at this advanced state, it would ever happen] but Dave is adamantly against anything like that…viewshed issues foremost. Plus, yes, it’s very insectile up there much of the year and not just around the water. A nice place to visit, as they say…
The sheep remind me of my Grandpa Jim who stored big piles of fleece in a shed behind our house on So.11th in San Jose in the 1940s. Some of the wool came from sheep he sheared for Basque sheepherders near Pahrump. It just dawned on me to put that together—his experiences and your images—and I’m realizing more about why he loved making those yearly trips.
Now there’s a story; shearers are still contracted by the Basques…as is the case with our neighbor Brent. Big piles of fleece in San Jose; nice.
Sigh, rural Santa Clara Valley, I remember that!
Wow, Mike. The upper 80, what a bonus. I’ve camped there a couple of times, because of the view and the nice walking up the canyon. Congratulations.
Purely symbolic, really, but a bonus nonetheless…generous!
The air seemed clearer than ever with some of the long distant photos really amazing. Total sucker for the mountain with the pink smudge.