Mountain Wildfire Smoke Plume - Near Bitterroot Valley, Montana

Seasonal wildfire smoke once again filters through myriad mountain canyons near Montana's Bitterroot Valley. 

Nestled - Bitterroot Valley, Montana

“We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words  - to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.”

-C.S. Lewis (1898-1963), The Weight of Glory

Full Spring Ahead - Bitterroot Valley, Montana

“…but if you never do, don't be discontented about it. We make our own lives wherever we are, after all . . . They are broad or narrow according to what we put into them, not what we get out. Life is rich and full here . . . everywhere . . . if we can only learn how to open our whole hearts to its richness and fulness." “

-Mrs. Allan to Anne, Anne of Avonlea, Chapter 15 by L.M. Montgomery 

Open To Imagine - Bitterroot Valley, Corvallis, Montana

“Yet are these things more difficult to accept than that all of existence came out of a single, random moment when cosmic gases exploded? Our eyes perceive so dimly, and our brains are so easily confused. Far better, I believe, to be like children and open ourselves to every beautiful possibility, for there is nothing our hearts can imagine that is not so .”

-from This Tender Land by William Kent Krueger, page 444

(Big thanks to Sissie #3 for this glorious walking scenery shot!)

Spring Snowcaps - Bitterroot Valley, Montana

“... it could be

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.”
—from Praying by Mary Oliver (1935-2019)

Morning Silence - Corvallis, Montana

"I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand, shadowless like Silence, listening
To silence..."
- From Autumn by Thomas Hood (1798-1845)
(Many thanks to Big Brother #3  for this sweeping Bitterroot Valley sunrise!)

7 Degrees F - Corvallis, Montana

 As we drove down the Bitterroot Valley this morning to a special church service at The Place, The Best Husband Ever commented how bizarre that a mere month ago we were riding bikes in 80 degree F. 
But then he countered that you only see the mountain edges so crisply cut when it’s this cold and clear. Brrrrrr-eautiful!

Full On Fall - Bitterroot Valley, Montana

It’s rather amazing how much can change when you go away for a week! Western Montana is definitely into full-on fall!  

Speaking of our week away, photos and thoughts from Sissie #3 are posted at JourneysWithGod.com. We had a great week with amazing people on all sides of the missions equation. 

For something good, both to watch AND invest in, tune in with us tomorrow night to the Dream Center’s 2020 Night of Dreams virtual fundraising gala. It’s sure to be a fun and uplifting time! (And I still want to know how they got Olivia Newton John involved!)

Hazy Horizon - Bitterrroot Valley, Montana

Mountains fading into wildfire smoke...lately, we're just glad to see ANY mountains! But those masks are handy now for more than just social safety...

 

On Value - BItterroot Valley, Montana

"The cost of a thing is the amount of what I will call life which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run."
-Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) from Walden

Authentic Happiness Via Bitterroot Winter Sunrise - Corvallis, Montana

Another glorious Bitterroot Valley view from Big Brother 3, that ponders well with this quote: 

 “Happiness does not lead to gratitude.
  Gratitude leads to happiness.”

- Benedictine monk David Steindl-Rast 
(found in A.J. Jacobs’ book, Thanks a Thousand!)

Comfort Food for My Soul - Bitterroot Valley, Montana

Familiar vistas spread before my eyes

Revealing layers of consistent beauty 

Never cease to calm, inspire, refresh

During our annual visit to Big Sky Country, Gary (MWH aka My Wonderful Husband) and I take every opportunity to just be outside. Breathing in the fresh air under endless blue skies, savoring views of rolling plains edged by mountainous peaks, or meandering along the river's edge.  

We return home refreshed in body and soul.

- Pat Richards

(A big thanks to Sis 3 (aka intrepid traveler Pat Richards) for sharing another guest post from their 2018 visit. Current crisp autumn skies look just about the same today, but with added swathes of yellow tamarack in the mountains.)

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.