The Ditch is Running

We got a break in the weather this morning, and short an inch yesterday – with less than half an inch so far today before noon, but the Sierras are gettin the brunt. And the aforementioned drainage is doing it’s thing.


A river runs through it, sorta.

After the last couple of days of rain that amounted to a couple-three inches, we could see where the puddles were developing and what needed encouragement to drain.

So we raked aside the tanbark and opened up a couple spots on the flanks of last-year’s Dry-Creek Project. A little shoveling and moving rocks to create a channel, and the puddles started flowing. Nice. The high Sierras are resplendent with a thick mantel of snow, and we got a beak in the weather – until Sunday night…

Today after lunch at Sportsman’s Hall, the old Pony Express station, I got even more busy with the shovel. Way-busy. I got digging.

In fact I got about halfway to the “Archaeology Pit” before prudence and my back said stop. All-in I got some 18,915 steps in according to my FitBit thing. I’m not nearly as indolent and lazy as I had assumed, but I do seem to attract dirt and mud. This is my acre of exercise, and I don’t need a gym membership.

Gotta get the work in when the conditions are favorable!

The Edge of Wetness

Steady rain since yesterday (Saturday) expected to last all week. Yesterday was .43 inches of slow saturation, today .23 by noon — which is good news for the Fire survivors, we hope.

Close-ups of the railroad lanterns…Temps in the upper 40’s all week.

UPDATE: Got an inch of rain Sunday. 9-inches to-date, and “normal” is 15 so there’s some catching-up to do, but the snowpack reportedly is ahead of schedule…

Rain Day-2

Rain today (as of 2:25PM) – 0.67 inches.
As of 2:50PM – 0.72 inches.
That was quick.
Rain yesterday – 0.75 inches.

Steady as she goes. Hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving! And thank God for the rain. Meanwhile the Redding press is up and mounted, and built like a tank.

Rain Yesterday – 1.05 in
Rainfall to Date – 3.05 in

UPDATE Day-5 – we’re short a bit in our day-to day “normal”:
Rainfall to Date – 3.53 in
Normal to Date – 7.96 in
Last Year to Date – 13.38 in


So far just an occasional spattering, but more is expected to come tonight – perhaps not the media-threatened deluge they have been advertising. But more interesting and highly anticipated was the arrival from Brownell’s that I decided would help me on the reloading path:

It’s a departure from the big red progressive Hornady AP press that I kept crumpling .44WCF necks. I hope this will provide a bit more accuracy and finesse in brass handling and I’m going to donate that other on to the Club’s Holiday Banquet raffle as a prize.

UPDATE: A consistent on-and-off rain, not a torrent – so that’s good. Got the press mounted to the bench. Coming next some dies and a powder thrower, and a measure. Then load it t up with Trail Boss and start loading ’em up. Yee-haw, the original chambering, .44-40 on the trail.


Eleven bags does about a third of an acre, so that’s what I spread in the middle-section of the field. Three bags filled the hopper. It’s what I need to kill the pastureland thorny weeds.

There’s every kind of thistle, thorn, burr, and nettle out here – and as you can see it’s as dry as a bone. Weed prevention is an important aspect of fire suppression and keeping a defensive perimeter.
I had to pump-up the little tires on the spreader, and also the wagon that was holding the (rather expensive) material – some stuff called “Concern” that should not prove dangerous to my neighbor’s cattle. Rain forecast for Wednesday should be a great benefit to the fire-fighters, and this needs to get watered-in, so I had to do it now.

Armistice 100 Years Ago

Thank-you Veterans for your service and sacrifice. Dad’s step-father Leo was there, not sure in what capacity. Among Dad’s things there is a bronze medal and ribbon showing a train-car with horses that reads “40 Hommes 8 Chevaux”, an Oklahoma National Guard medal, a very worn “Great War For Civilization” commemorative medal with no ribbon or hanger, and a signal-corps neck-insignia…

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.