Bucket Brigade, Missoula, Montana

A lone yellow bucket, beaming away amidst the mixed blues and rust.

Is there a story here, I wonder? (Or the beginnings of a children's book... hmmm....)
Was this arrangement on someone's bucket list? (Hahahahahaha! couldn't resist!)
Did it get placed just so to satisfy someone's artistic bent that usually has no outlet in a busy day in the yard?
Or was it just pure chance, mixed with happenstance of my angle of view on a random lunchtime walk?
I have questions. Almost always. Sometimes deeper than these. Or not.

Friday Crocus, Missoula, Montana

Billy Idol observed the niceness of a day for a white wedding. This Friday seems a nice day for a white crocus - as a cheery send-off into the weekend, not to be confused with a punk rock song. Since this has been one of those weeks where Tuesday felt like a Thursday, I think a pleasant segue is in order. 
In these parts, the crocuses are fair and fleeting, their bloom time minimized by the onset of warm temperatures. I glimpsed this one about a week ago, as I exited the public library.

Tree Shadow, Corvallis, Montana

Instead of a moon shadow, here’s a tree shadow.
Wait - don’t try to change the words of the song - just don’t! Not even in your head! It doesn't have the same smooth flow, and it provides absolutely no improvement on the original.
This personalizing of lyrics is actually a semi-pet peeve of mine - “semi-” because it doesn’t pop over to visit every single day, much like my cat, who often appears to be peeved.
I think the most virulent offense of this nature occurs when otherwise bona fide bands sub “Montana” in for “Alabama” . Yes, the skies are so blue here, too, but beyond that, there‘s no way you can confuse “the Southland“ with a state bordering the Great White North. I say, just enjoy the words as penned and call it good. Or even call it great, as in, "That's a great song!", which is often said of “Sweet Home Alabama”, that generation-bridging song that gets pretty much everyone singing along!

Feather Flotsam, Missoula, Montana

As an adult, I don’t know whether or not it’s true. But as a child, I fervently believed the convincing words of a grade-school teacher to our little sponge selves as she explained how wee bits of yarn and string and miscellaneous whatnot scattered out of doors would be used by birds in the spring to build their nests. A soft length of mohair yarn, blown into the tall grass, once inspired images of cozy comfort for feathered friends.
After personally picking up a couple bags of bits and pieces the birds apparently rejected, I think there are two possibilities: 1-our teacher was a bit daft, or at least excessively idealistic, or 2- she had it in for our parents and derived some pathetic satisfaction in knowing we’d all go home and earnestly lobby our bewildered elders to take us on yarn flinging expeditions to help the poor little birdies. I will give her this: long Alberta winters can make for some pretty desperate bids for entertainment.

Waffle Iron, Missoula, Montana

Given my attraction to the industrial milieu, it’s pretty perfect that I spend my work day surrounded by the very same. The break room back door overlooks a machine yard, outdoor picnic tables provide views of the train tracks, and a sunny yellow crane is directly opposite today’s shady lunch spot on the south lawn. Weather in the 70s plus mechanical vistas - life is grand! Maybe I'll top it off with waffles for supper. (Now where did that come from?)

Undaunted Sprout, Missoula, Montana

"Up in the valley of the Jolly Green Giant
Lived a fellow named the Little Green Sprout..."

Okay, it's not deep, but it's honest - that's what popped into my head when my little eye espied this persistent  new shoot. I don't even know what Little Green Sprout's story is - I mean, I was 4 when he made his big debut, so all I noticed was his adorable factor was off the charts. But now that I'm older, mature, I want to know: Does Sprout have anything inspiring to say about pushing through, undaunted, even if you're planted in a rocky place? Or is he truly just a cute little green guy who chats about nutrition with a friendly farmer? (Interestingly, said farmer suspiciously resembles the guy in the blue hat in the Keebler elf commercial. Perhaps he made a sideways career change - still working with diminutive cartoon-world citizens, but of a different genre.)
That's all I've got. Think deep thoughts, grow tasty fruit.

Scenic Carving, Missoula, Montana

The river trail behind the Missoula Osprey's ball field features several timberframe shelters crafted with traditional joinery techniques by the Timber Framers Guild. They provide a useful place to sit and enjoy the view or wait out a spring rain shower. I noticed that each unique shelter and bench along this section of trail was donated in memory of a person or organization. And, if you look up, you'll see this extra touch of beauty added to the inner cross timbers of one structure.