Tag: Mariposa County

  • Lightning, Fire, and Grazing

    Lightning, Fire, and Grazing

    “Feels very fire-y out. Windy, hot, lightning.” 

    Sent that text to Kristen as I made my way out for deliveries yesterday. Driving north on the 49 the big, tall van was getting blown around. 

    A line of thunderstorms ran just west and north of us off and on all day. Some areas got flash flooding while others were spared the floods but speared by lightning. 

    Dozens of spot fires took off in nearby towns like Raymond, Catheys Valley, Hornitos, and further to the north along Highway 120. The grasslands dried out in May and by early September what grass the cattle haven’t eaten is so crisp it breaks when you step on it. 

    It’s really dry right now. Really dangerous. 

    It sounds like the historic town of China Camp, about 50 miles north of us, took heavy damage. 

    Around our immediate area we are rattled, but fine. Later in the day a wind came through with gusts north of 30 MPH. Just a spark and we are cooked. 

    There’s irony in it all. 

    While the country is feeling the effects of the highest beef prices ever, fires leave cattle running for their lives. 

    We need more cattle, sheep, and goats grazing in the foothills to help mitigate the impact of a more volitile, changing climate. Not just in the grassier areas— everywhere. 

    But as herds head to the market the cattle families are asking themselves… do we cash out and retire? Or do we reinvest and buy the most expensive calves in history? It’s a fair question because by the time these replacements are ready the market might dip so much they’d lose money. 

    Imagine yourself as a local cattle ranching family. They’ve never taken money out of their ranch, just reinvested earnings to keep growing the herd and pay their bills. But with high prices and kids getting ready for college? It’s tempting to cash out, lock in the future, and wait for the dip. You’re torn by this because you want to serve the community you love, as well. But…

    When things are as uncertain as they are right now? Certainty is awful tempting.

    Early yesterday morning, before all of this happened, I sent an email to our Sierra National Forest team asking about our own grazing project. Why? Because winter is looming and I need to know: Am I buying to increase my herd, selling to reduce, or just breeding? 

    We’ve been in a holding pattern for months but I am at the point where it’s critical to have an answer. 

    I’m under no delusion, one day the dry lightning is coming for us, too. 

    We’d like our goats to be part of preventing a disaster but the land next to us doesn’t belong to us… so we are stuck waiting for permission. 

    Will it come in time? I have no idea. 

    Fingers crossed today is cooler, less windy, and those fleets of firefighters and bulldozers are able to contain that spectacle of fires. And fingers crossed I get a call from North Fork with the go ahead.

  • Why the County Fair Matters

    Why the County Fair Matters

    In sociological terms a “public” is a place where a local society meets or hangs out. It’s where you catch up with friends, meet new people, relax, conduct business, develop friendships, or simply be.

    In a sense these are usually “public spaces” but it doesn’t have to be publicly-owned spot. Back in the late 80s a “public” in the small town I grew around in Indiana might be the parking lot of a McDonald’s along McKinley or the USA Roller Rink or in the early 90s it would be cruising the mall, slow walking a Saturday night in hopes you might get invited to a party or be there when the fight happens, sipping on an Orange Julius or sneaking a peak into Victorias Secret.

    Social media has brought about the erosion of publics. People don’t hang out in person quite like they used to because apps have taken the local public from the coffee shop to your pocket. But, as we’ve learned, a digital public can be dangerous… they can accidentally turn into echo chambers. But we all know enatelt that there’s nothing quite like sitting around and chewing the fat with people in real life.

    In a small town like Mariposa the county fair is one of our main publics. It’s 4 days of pageantry, intrigue, and drama by which the social calendar of our 18,000 residents revolve. Whereas, in the Upper Midwest kids might get the opening day of deer season off from school, here you get the opening day of the fair off and if you don’t make it to school on Thursday the attendance office doesn’t seem to notice.

    Everyone knows Saturday night is the derby and Sunday is the livestock auction right before the rodeo. Even if you don’t go to any of it you know the whole world around here revolves around these 4 days.

    For kids, it’s “what are you showing this year?” Not “are you going to the fair?” It might only be 150 out of all the kids in the county but it sure feels like everyone.

    If you’re a city or suburban dweller you might not even know things like 4-H or FFA still exist. But around here? They are the lifeblood that makes the county fair a public. These programs have more members than all the churches combined. Our town loves youth sports but even the sports teams know better than to mess with the fair.

    I’m enjoying the fair. It’s the break I need at the end of a long, hot summer. It’s exhausting. But it also fills my tank. One full day left for me then back to harvesting on Monday for the week to come.

    Fair is important. And we like participating in our small ways.

    Jackson did much better this year than last. He’ll always be remembered in the rabbit group as the kid who showed his rabbit covered in blood because it ripped a toe nail out on the way into the ring.

    But I hope the core memory he’ll have from this week is the improvement he made showing his goat. He was first out last year in both market and showmanship, a source of a year’s frustration and embarrassment as his friends saw him place last. This year he moved up a division and finished 4th out of 15 in showmanship and 3rd in his group for market goats with the goat we bred.

    Tomorrow all attention will shift to the payoff, selling his goat to the highest bidder at the annual auction. It’s emotional for me to see the community rally and spend upwards of $500,000 on 160 fair project animals. And it’s especially emotional for me to see someone graciously overpay for a $300 goat to encourage my child’s interest in agriculture.

    Zooming out the lens, this is why it’s so important to invest in your communities public. I don’t know what it is where you live. But it’s there for you to find. And your life will be enriched when you join in.

    In Romeo it was Halloween and the Peach Festival. In Rolando it was the street fair and (RIP) the Boo Parade. Here? It’s the fair.

    Truly, I don’t think anyone who lives here would have it any other way. Even if they avoid going.

    Though, everyone should go to the derby once in their lives.

  • Poco a Poco

    Poco a Poco

    Poco a poco.
    Little by little. 

    Our plan for this house is revealing itself more visibly. 

    Originally, this house was the center of a 440 acre working ranch. They logged, sold timber locally to build houses and barns. They had an orchard, supplying the nearby Sugar Pine Mill workers with apples nearly year round, making cider with the rest, including some they’d leave by the fire to ferment just for themselves. They raised chickens and pigs and a few cows. They grew grapes and other stone fruit and had a garden to sustain themselves. They generated their own power using gravity. 

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  • Dispatch from Neverland

    Dispatch from Neverland

    The heat has finally broken here in Mariposa County. I’ll be the first to admit that I had no understanding just how hot it was going to get here from early July until late August. It was the kind of heat where you wake up thinking it won’t be too bad but by 2 o’clock you just want to hide in the house.

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