Rain fills pond

Three days ago rain came to the area and I received about 4.5 inches of moisture.  The pond, seen above, rose three feet from run-off water.  Many areas of Texas, not just central West Texas, received sufficient rain to fill lakes and ponds.  The run-off was severe and water flooded roads.  Burn bans have been lifted.  I have read news reports that the drought has been lifted.  My pond has not been this full in over two years.

Rain in Broke Tree Corral

Rain in Broke Tree Corral, north Erath County, Texas, August 12, 2011.

Yesterday afternoon, after months of drought, rain came down sporadically in drops, then sheets of rain.

The first raindrops bounced on the aluminum roof of the barn and stables. Lightning flashed, thunder clapped, and Star the paint gelding and I flinched.  He bolted for about three gallops, then returned quickly to the shelter of the stable.  Within thirty minutes, five-tenths of an inch had fallen and a lightning strike on the oil piping fence about fifty-yards away knocked out electrical power.

I fed Star his grain and Horseshoer’s Secret — a potion for rebuilding hoof walls — and he munched haply through the noise of the thunderstorm, occasionally bringing his head out of the feed bin to see if I still sat in the alleyway waiting out the rain.  I talked to him, Good boy, fine fellow.

Broke Tree Corral is the first of two successive corrals about the barn and arena.  So named for an American Elm tree that broke in two, the tree has continued to thrive with bark and one-half of its internal veins intact for at least eight years now.  The grass in the corrals has become brittle and sparse.  The rain quickly formed small channels that flowed into the second corral, the Well House Corral, where bare ground could not stop the erosion-flow into the near fields of buffalo grass and mesquite sprouts.

Rain flows down the road towards the barn, north Erath County, Texas, August 12, 2011

Rain has fallen, the temperature has dropped and the Jack Rabbit has come out of his burrow to chomp on fresh sprouts and new, tender, blades of grass in the small dell between me and the Dooley place.  The drought has not been broken decisively, but this rainfall is a far away sound of better days and nights headed to Texas, a hunter’s footfall tracking a devil of fiery brutalities to slay and scatter to cool winds and shady juniper groves for those that live with the land.

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Notes, corrections and additions:

Try as I might, misspelled words sometimes slip through.  I do not rely on “check spelling” frequently, but will look again at a word if it is underlined in red.  In this post this morning, I misspelled, “lightning,” twice!  I spelled it “lightening” and missed the correction.  In writing posts, I do not have a proofreader.  It is an imperfect world filled with imperfect compositions.

Sound: 54 seconds of Sunday afternoon rain

Sage to Meadow Blog. A narrative of people living with the land in the American Southwest. That’s the short description of what this blog is about. I want to expand it a bit today with a video and especially the sound portion of rain, the weather change we’ve been waiting for here in central-west Texas. The fires are all out at Possum Kingdom. I saw U.S. Forest Service trucks on Thursday rushing towards west Texas and Arizona, accompanied by Highway Patrolmen with red lights turning. There must be problems farther west for them to rush. I hope my friends in west Texas, New Mexico and Arizona will see an end to the dry spell and conditions.

Here in central-west Texas, we have the rain. The view is towards the south, looking at the arena field and round pen. Star is in his stable. He whinnied a few minutes ago because I was tardy in feeding him. The rains have come in rhythmic bands throughout the day. In the video, you can discern St. Augustine grass, planted by the previous owners. I like the buffalo grass. You can see tufts of it and Queen Ann’s Lace on the first terrace.

I am running a test on a new format for my blog. The format is called Basic Maths. I’m not so sure I will stay with it. I have thirty days to test its application.

Tropical Storm Hermine Blows Hats Off

Tropical Storm Hermine, September 8, 2010, 3:05 p.m. CDT. Hermine has passed over our ranch and is headed northeast out of Texas. If you look west of Dallas about 100 miles, that is the location of Flying Hat Ranch.

Tropical Storm Hermine came through Flying Hat Ranch yesterday, dumping four inches of precious rainfall.  The clouds were low to the ground.  The mussel shells we place in the road going to the barn floated down the road with eroded soil, giving the appearance of beach front property instead the semi-arid West.

Hermine blew my hat off and knocked out our high-speed internet connection.  I came into Fort Worth today in order to work on my online classes.  As we left the ranch, the eye of Hermine passed over Interstate 20 and the sun shined and blue sky appeared.  But within a matter of minutes the eye of the storm passed and we were in gentle rain again.

When I fed the horses this morning, Star and Fanny ran around the corral in excitement, kicking and prancing, enjoying the cooler temperatures and wet weather.  I had to empty their feed bins of water.  Lilly, who is by herself in the Broke Tree Corral, loves the cooler weather, too.  The corrals are side-by-side so that they all can be together, young and old alike.

Related Articles

• Tropical Storm Hermine Brings Heavy Rain, Wind To North Texas (smudailymustang.com)

Hay, Rain, Fire

My horses were short of hay and I had to go to Stephenville today to purchase alfalfa and Bermuda.  I took a chance that it would not rain heavily and drench the eight bales that the feed store  stacked in the F-150.  Fortunately, it did not rain heavily and I returned after lunch with wet hay, but not soggy.

The rain has taken away the threat of grass fires.  I have seen prairie fires at night up on the ridge line towards Stephenville several years ago during the month of January.  That night I drove out in the pickup to check the fires.  Whirlwinds of fire looped like little devils through pastures.  The scene was hideous.  I hitched the trailers to our trucks and prepared to load livestock if the wind shifted in our direction.  The fires stayed south of us and did not move closer than five miles from our place.  I drove up with our stock trailer to see if I could assist my neighbors in Huckabay and Hannibal.   The next day after the fires had died out, I saw homes destroyed, livestock scattered, and smoke from large trees still burning.

I am glad for this day of rain and cool temperatures, wet hay or not.