18 March 2017

Almost-Spring Storm Clouds - Bitterroot Valley, Montana

Despite stormy clouds rolling from the west over the Rocky Mountains, we're pushing 50 degrees F on a beautiful Bitterroot almost-spring morning!

17 March 2017

Splash of Green for St. Patrick's Day - Missoula, Montana

Perfect timing for a montage of almost-spring grreens - literally and liberally splashed with melodious melt water.

For endless fun and parental irritation, print them out to make your very own flip book! 

(Yes, these springward sprites were brought to you - again! - courtesy of inelegant crouching. 
For you, I would do this, and I don't say this to just anyone!)

Enjoy the lovely Irish Day!

16 March 2017

River Rush - Clark Fork River, Missoula, Montana

"I grew up in this town, 
my poetry was born 
between the hill and the river, 
it took its voice from the rain, 
and like the timber, 
it steeped itself in the forests."

- Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)

14 March 2017

Rest and Motion - Missoula, Montana

"When by the discipline of His Divine guidance,
 we know Him,
 and He going with us
 gives us Rest,
 then Time and Eternity are merged
 and lost
 in that amazing vital relationship. 

The union is one not of mystic contemplation,
 but of intense perfection of activity,
 not the Rest of the placid peace of stagnation,
 but the Rest of perfect motion..."

13 March 2017

On Seeing - Missoula, Montana

"I have been so young till this moment that all my life now seems to have been a kind of sleep. I have thought that I was being carried, and behold, I was walking."

Ransom asked what she meant.

"What you have made me see," answered the Lady, "is as plain as the sky, but I never saw it before. Yet it has happened every day. One goes into the forest to pick food and already the thought of one fruit rather than another has grown up in one's mind. Then, it may be, one finds a different fruit and not the fruit one thought of. One joy was expected and another is given. 
But this I had never noticed before--that the very moment of the finding there is in the mind a kind of thrusting back, or setting aside. The picture of the fruit you have not found is still, for a moment, before you. 
And if you wished--if it were possible to wish--you could keep it there. You could send your soul after the good you had expected, instead of turning it to the good you had got. You could refuse the real good; you could make the real fruit taste insipid by thinking of the other."

- from PerelandraChapter Five, by C.S. Lewis (1898-1963)