It’s June 10th.  It’s snowing.

I would like to say this is unusual but it isn’t.

You get through it.

You take a deep breath.

You focus on the positive (fewer fires in August and September).

You hunker down.

You accept it.

You bake.

You think about other things.

You get through today.

You make it to the next tree.

You clean your house.

You organize the closets.

You look at old photographs.

You let your kids watch tv.

You remind yourself that it won’t be this way forever.

You’re grateful.

You don’t complain.

You suck it up.

You do it.

Because that is what needs to be done.

And that is the essence of living in Montana.  The lesson that shapes the people who choose to let their hearts and bodies roam free in these mountains and prairies.

A lesson that most places have forgotten.

Simple sensations of home are fresh and wonderful once again.

Touching :: The faces of my sweet beauties, who are upside down and inside out from three days of confinement.

Tasting :: The memory of carne asada.  And salsa.  And fresh tortillas.  Sighhhhhhhhh.…

Smelling :: Fresh mountain air ~ clean, campfirey, and instinctively familiar on a deep and satisfying level.

Hearing :: The preening of birds and the purring of cats.

Seeing :: The beloved big skies of home.

Stay tuned for pictures.  Lots of pictures.

Aim higher.

The winter lasts a long time in Montana.

A looooooong time.

We are currently in the throngs of Winter 2, the post-Christmas lull before the real deep-freeze madness sets in.

This year we have been graced with plenty of still, blue skies and precocious black birds to waken our dreary eyes.  A refreshing preparation for our next season.

Still Winter.

Hang in there, say the black birds. Make new plans for gardens and summertime frills, fix the parts of your insides that ask for attention still.

Thank you for your message, Brother Birds.  You hang in there too.