Rio sans pulse

September 4, 2026 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 8 Comments

The Rio Gonzo, seen at 10 a.m. Thursday from the Gail Ryba Memorial Bridge along I-40.

If the Rio had a pulse yesterday, I couldn’t find it.

Our local water wizard, John Fleck, noted Wednesday that the Bernalillo County Water Utility Authority, with the Middle Rio Grande Conservancy District and Audubon Southwest, was releasing “a pulse of water” from Abiquiu Reservoir on the Rio Chama in northern New Mexico “as an experiment – what might a several-day pulse of water do to help the aridification-starved riverside forests along New Mexico’s Middle Rio Grande?”

Then he went out to chase that pulse. And on Thursday, I so did I.

What I saw, you see, right up top there. Nada. Niente. Bupkis.

It was a good day for a ride down to the bosque. Not a good day for the bosque. As far as I could see in one quick pass, anyway.

The Journal found something to celebrate, but Matthew Reisen and Eddie Moore may have paid their visit later in the day and/or further north along the Rio, closer to the Alameda bridge than the Gail Ryba. I skipped the Alameda trailhead in favor of the most direct route west from El Rancho Pendejo — Bear Canyon Trail, North Diversion Channel Trail, Paseo del Norte Trail, and finally the Paseo del Bosque Trail.

Everything looked parched along the path. Lots of leaves on the deck already and some very unhappy trees. A smallish crop of roadies in various flavors plus a few dudes rocking gravel bikes on the unpaved trails who were definitely going to want to give a little postride love to their dusty drivetrains. Some water in an irrigation ditch east of the bosque path, but the river was as you see. It seemed an odd day to be riding a bike that takes its name from the Spanish for “fishmonger.”

Fleck hasn’t posted an update yet, but that’s to be expected. He’s the expert, not just another rando rambling along the road to Perdition.

It seemed a very long, hot ride back to the rancho, where water springs from the tap at the twist of a wrist. For the moment, anyway.

Aqua, man

August 23, 2026 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 26 Comments

There seems to be a theme to the news this morning.

A drought-stricken Colorado river is drying up.

The water in Cañon City and northern El Paso County tastes foul.

And the future of the Colorado River? Well … we’re probably gonna have to wear shades, but it ain’t exactly looking bright.

No wonder the bears are coming down from the mountain to kick ass.

“All y’all are fuckin’ this shit up,” says Yogi.

“We’d eat you, if we thought it would help, but you don’t even taste good anymore,” adds Boo Boo. “Like cheap industrial lager and soda pop.”

“And B.O.,” says Yogi. “You using any of this water to take showers, or are you just soaking the lawn and washing the Suburban?”

Here in the Land of Entrapment the monsoon has been more of a non-soon, and when asked when we might expect some relief the answer is “Not soon.”

The administration’s drought map shows that 3% of New Mexico is in “severe drought,” namely Albuquerque, Santa Fe and parts of the northeastern corner of the state. About one-third of the state, predominantly in northern New Mexico, is suffering from “extreme drought,” the map shows.

The outlook notes that conditions are unlikely to improve over the next two weeks, with all but the northern and western edges of New Mexico facing 100% probabilities of above-average temperatures.

Meanwhile, my old stomping grounds around Española remain on fire.

I’d love to claim the moral high ground here. But I’m down here in the sandbox with the rest of the dummies. Part of the problem.

We have a lawn. Smaller than the one we got when we bought the house, at the northern edge of the Chihuahuan Desert. But still.

I drink two cups of coffee and one tall mug of tea every morning, plus a bottle or two of water on my bike rides, and more after I get home. There’s that daily shower too. Sometimes it’s jailhouse style, but occasionally I go full Hollywood.

I let God wash the car, when She’s of a mind to. Lately She’s not in the mood. Keeps sending us bears.

Earth Day

April 22, 2026April 22, 2026 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 28 Comments

The backyard maple is still with us, megadrought be damned.

The arborista with the tree service we use recently sent out a customer-tips newsletter about balancing responsible water use and tree care. Top of her list? “Plant better trees.”

The trend has been hotter and drier for many years. I don’t see drought conditions going away. There are plenty of shade trees that are not water-hogs and many desert trees that complement your landscapes. Cottonwood and maple are so out of fashion in drought conditions.

Sigh. Naturally, we’ve got this doddering old maple that endures an amputation or six every fall. And there’s a giant-ass cottonwood across the arroyo.

We had a beautiful maple in the front yard back in Bibleburg. Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Defense Regiment) loved that tree, when he was still an indoor-outdoor cat. He’d take up a position in the crotch of it and make himself look even longer than he was, like a giant furry albino alligator.

Once a killer hailstorm hit that tree like Spooky working out with its Vulcan minigun. Maple-leaf salad all over the front yard and porch. Tree bounced right back, maybe even better than ever.

But it rains and snows in the B-burg. Or it used to, anyway. A tree can get a little love up there, whether it’s Earth Day or not.

Weather is here, wish you were beautiful

February 28, 2026February 28, 2026 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 15 Comments

“Periwinkle blue, boys,” the color Mickey the Pikey wanted for his ma’s caravan in “Snatch.”

The Duck! City was smokin’ the day after the State of the Union crashed and burned, reaching a high of 72 degrees — 18 degrees above average.

It’s nice to be above average in something. But still, damn.

The roses are budding and so is everything else. The primates who call this desert home may view with alarm the federal knuckles being dragged into the Colorado River Compact, which remains an insoluable dilemma to its signatories and will join the long list of issues about which His Excremency King Piggy the Sticky-Fingered knows nothing and cares even less.

And Your Humble Narrator, who ordinarily yearns to piss off to someplace toasty about this time of year, finds himself in the awkward position of grumbling about beautiful weather in February.

All of which means — yes, yes, yes — it’s time for a Coconut Telegraph edition of Radio Free Dogpatch. Apologies to the late Jimmy Buffett, from whom I liberated the headline.

• Technical notes: RFD uses the Ethos mic from Earthworks Audio; Audio-Technica ATH-M50X headphones; Zoom H5 Handy Recorder; Rogue Amoeba’s Audio Hijack; Apple’s GarageBand, and Auphonic for a quick wash and brushup. The dog drinking from his dish and the car failing to start come from Freesound. The background music, “Easy Stroll,” is from YouTube’s audio library. Other sound effects are the work of the thirsty, sunburnt, untraveled Irish-American behind the bar at this non-alcoholic pub.

Up on the roof

February 6, 2023 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments

On the roof, the only place I know,
where you just have to wish to make it so.

Every day you are above the sod is a good one.

I was a little further above the sod than is my custom this morning, filling up four 39-gallon Hefty bags with the pine needles carpeting the northernmost corner of our roof.

Ordinarily this would give me some worthy topic for complaint (“Flat roofs are stupid,” and so on). But we don’t live in Turkey, or Syria, so we still have our stupid flat roof intact above our heads instead of in pieces smack dab on top of them.

Plus, we had a roofer take a look-see up there the other day, and he said he thought we didn’t need a completely new roof, just a few precautionary touchups here and there. And maybe someone should rake up that shaggy carpet of pine needles on the north side, he mused.

This roofer worked for the company that installed our roof back in 2007, and shortly thereafter launched his own operation with a lot of the same people from the previous outfit, which is no longer with us (due to personal matters rather than personnel matters).

So we’re inclined toward optimism, which regular visitors know is not Your Humble Narrator’s natural state of being.

Below the roof, down there where the sod lies, a landscaper whose work we have admired has had a walkaround — like the roofer, The Big Boss Man of his outfit — and one of his people just popped by to take some measurements. So we’re expecting a design proposal and cost estimate directly.

Maybe, just maybe, since it seems we might not have to put a new bonnet on El Rancho Pendejo, we can afford to have its grass skirt hemmed. Use a little less of our imaginary Colorado River water. Encourage the lawn-gobbling deer to browse elsewhere, which would endear us to our gardening neighbors.

Flat roofs are stupid, though. Just sayin’.