I watched the trajectory of last week’s rainstorm on radar, observing that small parts of the gusty northwest-to-east system from Mexico appeared to be making a direct delivery to San Ygnacio, the ranch lands northeast of San Ygnacio, and other parts of Zapata County — all parched dry, all in need of a significant drink of water.
The system that made it to Laredo delivered 4.83 inches, which according to Heatwave Berler delivered more rain to the City than had fallen over the last eight months.
I got to San Ygnacio as soon as I could and raced another four miles northeast of there to our ranch to see if indeed the storm had blessed the ranchlands. Things looked promising as I made my way there, noting that Dolores Creek had come alive. Now and again some of the deep bar ditches on either side of Hwy. 83 held water. The plow ridges of the hay grazer fields north of San Ygnacio were flattened to sizeable expanses of mud on both sides of the highway.
Inside our gate, a heel scratch across the soil revealed moisture left by serious rainfall, a fact soon corroborated by puddles and the good news at the rain gauge — 4.5 inches.
Elated, I flitted like a fool to the dams of our small lakes, grateful for the visible rise in their volume, grateful that, despite a few slippery spots, the packed wet sand of the senderos is always far more navigable than deep, dry sand.
Wet or dry, vibrant green or grasses the color of cardboard, this land offers the invaluable beauty of wildlife habitat and the incalculable gift of serving as the cradle of family history, the repository for high notes of the heart and a few sad ones.
I count among the high notes being the ranch hand/grandmother-in-residence of my granddaughters, Emily and Amandita (Joyce.)
Age — my passport to unlimited rumination, introspection, self recrimination, redemption, gratitude, and tender reminiscence — invokes memories of having lived here for 20 of the best years of my life and before that for the adventure of experiencing this land as a child with our parents, grandmother, cousins, aunts, and uncles.
This ranch and those who have cared for it and us were the bedrock of our universe, stewards of the beloved place to which we always returned. The lessons here were many. Whining and talking back to an adult was prohibited; respect for elders mandatory. Kindness and good manners were rewarded.
Though this has been a cattle ranch for well over 150 years, the most rewarding industry of it has been a love of the wild world, Milky Way skies, and each other.
