Still Winter - Missoula, Montana

The marmot has spoken (er, observed?): Six more weeks of winter for us on this side of the world. And the snow keeps coming....!

 (Full disclosure: This pic was during our October snowfall, hence the fresh leaves and plump berries...)

Humble Clarity - Greenough Oark, Missoula, Montana

“That inner voice has both gentleness and clarity. So to get to authenticity, you really keep going down to the bone, to the honesty, and the inevitability of something.” - Meredith Monk

Berries For The Birds? - Missoula, Montana

"White and yellow, kill a fellow.
Purple and blue, good for you.
Red... could be good, could be dead..."
- berry mnemonic from former Green Beret Myke Hawke, discussing outdoor survival tips on Good Morning America 

Berry Hues - Missoula, Montana

Deep berry red and Montana blue sky - I'm just missing a flash of white cloud to complete the Independence Day colour trio.

Happy Fourth, and may we remember to be thankful for those who still guard our freedom.

Snowfall Over Rattlesnake Creek - Missoula, Montana

"...In tiny spherule traced with lines

Of Nature’s geometric signs,

In starry flake, and pellicle,

All day the hoary meteor fell;..."

 

- from "Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl" by John Greenleaf Whittier 

 

Some of my best winter memories are bounded by snow days. Pity the forever warm-clime dwellers who know no such frosty delight!

Fruitful Transition, Missoula, Montana

I intended to add a gentle, lovely quote along lines of transitions of beauty in surrounding seasons mirror those of our soul - but Stephen King's witty words made me laugh out loud and then resonated so very well with my feelings about autumn. Enjoy (and may my mother forgive the one wee crass word.)
 

“But then fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.”

― Stephen King, 'Salem's Lot’

Beyond Fuzzy, Polson, Montana

Road signs in the Flathead Valley tie to regional history by listing place names in both English and Salish or Kootenai languages. The names are not mere translation between languages, but rather a listing of the names given by each culture to the same place, with the Salish or Kootenai name also translated to English.The aboriginal names often reveal  particular attributes of the location: Evaro Area is otherwise known as “Little Valley Behind Hills”; St. Ignatius as “Place Where You Surround Something”. These more descriptive names pulled my eyes to scan beyond the roadside and weekend lake traffic; I garnered a broader appreciation of my travel route to Flathead Lake.
Perhaps this extreme fuzz’s name in another language translates to “Old Man’s Crazy Eyebrow“ ?
(For a (ahem) manly laugh, please read the blog in the preceding text link.)

Grazing Caterpillar, Polson, Montana

At first glance, I thought the flitting chickadees were foraging on the luscious crop of berries. Then I spied one of these fuzzy grazers hanging from a chickadee beak.
Snacker becomes snackee.
(Perhaps I better take heed and cut back the chip munching.)

Rose Hips Together, Missoula, Montana

“No person ever died that had a family.”
― Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

Fall Harbinger, Missoula, Montana

The Wild Geese

by Wendell Berry

 from Collected Poems 1957-1982 (North Point Press)

Horseback on Sunday morning,

harvest over, we taste persimmon

and wild grape, sharp sweet

of summer's end. In time's maze

over fall fields, we name names

that went west from here, names

that rest on graves. We open

a persimmon seed to find the tree

that stands in promise,

pale, in the seed's marrow.

Geese appear high over us,

pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,

as in love or sleep, holds

them to their way, clear,

in the ancient faith: what we need

is here. And we pray, not

for new earth or heaven, but to be

quiet in heart, and in eye

clear. What we need is here.

Berry Nice, Missoula, Montana

Spherical berries contrast pleasingly with the line and movement of the leaves.

The green leaf on the far right makes me think of beet leaves, which my aunties sometimes use to make an alternate cabbage roll - alternate because the beet leaves replace the cabbage - with a strong, savoury flavour that reminds me of dolmades. Sometimes they bake them in a heavy cream sauce with real mushrooms.  Yum. No one makes fabulous comfort food like Ukrainian women.

Don't Eat the Berries, Missoula, Montana

'Tis the lot of the easily distracted to notice ubiquitous details (is that an oxymoron? maybe not quite...). Getting out of the car at Lifestyle Fitness yesterday, I noticed the plump red berries on several trees in the parking lot. The good news is I got some happiness-inducing photos AND did my 2000 metre row AND got home at decent time - woohoo!