Sun-Kissed Butte, Fort Shaw, Montana

Still at the Fort Shaw historical sign pullout, pivot and scan down the highway, then continue your rotation to gaze across the road. On a clear summer day, you’ll see this same sun-kissed butte across the waving meadow grasses. And at the far horizon, the hazy mountain silhouette means home is just on the other side.

Fort Shaw Splendour, Central Montana

If, during your Montana road trip along Hwy. 200, you pull over to read the historical marker sign at the Fort Shaw, this is the view you might see - or a very gloriously comparable one.
A different angle of how history brings new perspective to our lives.
(Zoom in to read the sign in the second photo.)

Beehives, Lolo, Montana

Montana’s honey varies widely in taste and texture, depending on the bees‘ foraging grounds. Knapweed honey has a particular zing and a coarser texture. Clover and alfalfa honeys tend to be milder and smooth. Whatever the flower source, it’s all the bees knees!

Marias River Hills, Central Montana

Montana’s Marias River has long been a source of inspiration, and continues to stimulate the minds of modern day troubadours and poets. Read more here from Tami Haaland, our State’s Poet Laureate, who grew up exploring along the Marias’s landscape.

Pelicans, Fort Shaw, Montana

Just east of Fort Shaw, Montana, I pulled onto a side road running along the wetlands where the pictured American White Pelicans lounged. I did notice a small orange windsock, but only fleetingly wondered why a bird sanctuary might need to know wind direction and strength. The long, straight dirt road was just the right distance away to observe yet not startle the floating birds, and a beautiful place for an early evening photo stroll.

After my fill of photos, I backed up my car and turned around to exit onto the highway. As I waited for traffic to clear, a serious, wiry senior lady on her green lawn tractor idled over to my passenger window. Imagine my horror - I, whose childhood farm home included a grass airstrip and varied flying activity - as I deciphered her words from the rumble of her mower motor, “You know the windsock means that this is an airstrip, don’t you?“ 

Yes, in mere nano-seconds, all manner of “could have happened” thoughts raced through my brain, yet I managed to spout profuse apologies. Thankfully, this watchful airstrip angel let me off with a grace note: “But it’s okay that you were taking pictures”, then revved up into gear, efficiently checked left and right for traffic, and moseyed back across from whence she came. 

Thank the good Lord for those who watch over idiots.

Celtic Cruiser Cross, Lolo, Montana

We happened to be at the Lumberjack Saloon listening to a friend’s band when the Bikers Against Bullies showed up for lunch at the end of a late-June awareness ride. I had an entertaining chat with Leprechaun, who built this custom Celtic bike from the ground up during spring of this year. He graciously directed us to his gorgeous creation in the bike lineup and gave permission to take photos.
Wishing you fair skies and many smooth miles to come, Leprechaun.

Windmill Horizon, Sweetgrass Hills, Montana

“There, lay outskirts. Through them are windmills lining
A vast expanse of amber sky, and there they are refining
A pure blue wind, tinted such within by turning steel fins…”

- From Sunset Spirals by Elijah Corbeau, poet
Read the full poem here.