Really Red Was the Colour - Missoula, Montana

Yes, these leaves were really this vibrantly red! 
Actually, a bit more so - they had their own little glow going.

Fences Not For Sitting Upon - Bitterroot Valley, Montana

Today's view is a guest post courtesy of Sis #3, whose recent activities noted at www.journeyswithGod.com underscore that she definitely has not had time to sit on a fence of indecision, or even the more pleasant kind with a view.Thanks, sis, for sharing a fond family legend (which may exist with different details in the minds of other siblings!)

This barbed wire fence with aging fence posts caught my eye and stirred me to pondering.   

Fence sitting has long been eschewed as the trade of procrastinators and slackers. But maybe those who have never sat upon a fence,  contemplating their options, enjoying the activity around them, have only ever had a prickly uncomfortable fence at their disposal.  Think about it. 

TBLSE (The Best Little Sister Ever) reminded me of a fence-sitting incident from childhood which was all fine and dandy ... until I attempted to dismount the fence I had chosen to perch upon.

Our weekend-farmer father was doctoring some yearling cattle, dispensing medicine and ear tags, and cutting horns. Perched atop the rail fence,  his curiously observant offspring had been strongly cautioned to remain quiet and still so as not to startle the already freaked-out steers, who could bolt and cause bodily harm to our Dad.

My 9ish-year-old-self decided to quietly climb down off the rail fence, not noticing the coil of barbed wire on the fence post, the end of which somehow caught under my jacket and deeply scratched my tummy.  The scar remains to this day - but I am proud to say not a peep escaped - I remained quietly weeping crocodile tears until the work was finished and Dad could safely doctor my wound.