As we tramped amongst the rocks at Fish Creek, headgear damp with intermittent spits of the lowering mist, a freight train thundered across the shrouded trestle.
Many would think this disruptive, perhaps even shaking a fist skyward whilst exclaiming, 'Curse you, disturbing creature of man!'
But not me.
Partly because we'd already happened upon a recently wolf-mauled deer carcass, which qualifies as at least a day's quota of disturbing.
But mostly because I've loved trains from the summer I was 5-ish and siblings three rode for a couple hours in a passenger car to visit our grandparents in Red Deer, Alberta.
The rails have charmed me ever since.
So I smiled toward the receding roar, and enjoyed a bonus to an already favourite-things-filled day.
A fragrant something to add to your mantel, stair banister, bowl of Christmas goodness, or what-have-you. Breathe deep - you’ll almost smell the pine needles and crisp air - and the oxygen boost never hurts.
If trees in your neighborhood look more like tumbleweeds, or are of the Charlie Brown variety, do not despair - Montana pine needles are available as beautiful baskets, hand-crafted in Missoula by Judy Arledge. See examples on-line at her site, or at 4 Ravens Gallery in downtown Missoula. Who knew pine needles could be so much more than mulch?
Poem: We Live In A Big Sky by Jon Katz
"Listen to my story, dear ones,
the world
is one big sky,
Where we are born, where we live.
Have you lost your wings?,
And,
Forgotten how to fly?..."
(Click here to finish reading.)
Wish rocks - those having a ring completely around them - were a recurring delight over the weekend.
Walking up Blue Mountain, my sister and I marveled at large ones - the size of all four of our feet together - in the roadway.
And at Fish Creek, they were scattered all about the bared creek bed.
See more of Fish Creek at my friend’s photo feed, True Element Images.
Sunday was surprisingly rainy, thanks to an unexpected warm before the storms blow down from Canada.
But a wee bit of precipitation didn’t keep my friend, J., and me from our photo outing to West Fish Creek, near Alberton, Montana.
As my sainted mother would say, with a smile, “You’re not made of sugar, are you?”
Today the countdown to Christmas begins in earnest - 24 days left.
With little seeds of snow sprinkled about the foothills, we’ll hope the real thing sprouts to great white drifts just in time for the blessed day - but not much before.
After all, there‘s commuting to be done, and driving skills decline remarkably with the each incremental layer of the cold white stuff.
“Now some folks call it fickle fate
And some folks call it chance,
While others just accept it
As a pleasant happenstance…”
From “Not By Chance Nor Happenstance” by Helen Steiner Rice
(Read the full poem
here.)
The happenstance (it's fun to say, you must admit) of this photo was the shutter going off as I checked for dust - voila! - a shot I would not have had otherwise, and of one of my favourite subjects, to boot!
Imagined Holiday Travel Conversation From Our Featured Leaves:
"Did you not hear me practically shouting, ‘Portage! Portage!’, before that last exit?
Sigh.
Well, keep hanging onto that rock until we can safely catch the next eddy out of here.
Maybe we'll still make it home in time for Downton Abbey."
Brief silence.
"Do we have any leftover pie?"
