WHERE OLIVES GROW
Last year's designation, by a leading wine magazine, as the best wine region in the world has assured the Paso Robles appellation of continued attention. But it is also a burgeoning olive growing district. This view is from Kiler Ridge where some great olive oil is grown and processed.
DROUGHT BLUES
The dry heat, when it should be damp or rainy cool, has confused nature. The drought continues. These hills should be green.
Coastal California has three seasons, golden, brown and green, but the drought has taken us from brown to concrete gray.
THIS IS NORMAL WINTER
These are scenes from 2 years ago, the last season we had adequate rain.
Now, only a tinge of green
The rolling hills have taken on a gray cast, instead of the normal winter/spring "Green as Ireland" look. Believe it or not we are pleased by the tinge that you may be able to spot on the western slopes.
This is normally a lagoon, used by birds and water fowl.
For the time being central and southern Californians are hoping and praying for more rain, so we'll see more of this-a product of the only 3-4 inches we've had this season.
This narrow strip near the road and mailbox is the most green we've seen. Wish those who have had an abundance of rain or snow could pipe it west.
See you down the trail.
With that mighty ocean just west of you all you need is a humongous desalinizing irrigation machine.
ReplyDeleteIf only we could convince the no growth segment of our population. Desal has been on the burner in our community for over 20 years and the naysayers have so far keep us from having this reasonable source of water.
DeleteSee the cartoon the other day about the Cali drought? The guy says, "Who cares about the drought in California anyway?" The wife says "Almonds are $150.00 a can."
ReplyDeleteI think the following applies to both Midwest and West this winter...
ReplyDelete"Loud are the thunder drums in the tents of the mountains.
Oh, long, long
Have we eaten chia seeds
and dried deer's flesh of the summer killing.
We are tired of our huts
and the smoky smell of our clothing.
We are sick with the desire for the sun
And the grass on the mountain."
- Paiute Late Winter Song