Six and Snow - Corvallis, Montana

New snow.

I am again six years old.

The seduction of untrammeled snow is akin to the fresh possibility inherent in the first page of a brand new notebook - new horizons beckon!

Reminiscing Donkey - Missoula, Montana

“When fishes flew and forests walked

And figs grew upon thorn,

Some moment when the moon was blood

Then surely I was born….

…For I also had my hour;

One far fierce hour and sweet:

There was a shout about my ears,

And palms before my feet.”

- From the poem The Donkey by G.K. Chesterton (1874–1936)

Honest Equine Face - Missoula, Montana

""Look!" said Jill suddenly. Someone was coming, rather timidly, to meet them; a graceful creature on four feet, all silvery-grey. And they stared at him for a whole ten seconds before five or six voices said all at once, "Why, it's old Puzzle!" ... He was himself now: a beautiful donkey with such a soft, grey coat and such a gentle, honest face that if you had seen him you would have done just what Jill and Lucy did - rushed forward and put your arms round his neck and kissed his nose and stroked his ears." - from The Last Battle, The Chronicles of Narnia, by C.S. Lewis

Last On The Summer Vine - Livingston, Montana

On a recent jaunt to Livingston, Montana, Big Sister #2 happened to be on weekend farm chore rotation at Montessori Island School, where she works. (Clarification: It is not on an island, but it does have a smattering of farm critters.) Thus, after Sunday morning church, we zipped across town to tend to the needs of the sheep (singular), goat, chickens, and varied vigorous vegetables. Actually, 'we' didn't tend to anything - I watched and took pictures while Sis did all the work. It was rather fascinating to see this former city girl in her element in a wee farmyard. Amazing what happens to people when they fall in love and move to live under the Big Sky. I've heard tell that even a short visit can forever change your views.

Cupcakes As Far As Eye Can See, Missoula, Montana

The school colours of recent family graduates translated to some seriously staining cupcake frosting.

My mother didn’t bake cupcakes, that I can recall. She routinely baked muffins, which are shaped the same, but have no frosting and are delicious in a more robust fashion.
Thinking about my mum's hearty muffins, I consider how, in many ways, I had an idyllic childhood. (In other areas, therapy has been invaluable - but that’s another saga!)
On the food front, our childhood featured a tremendous jump start to health. Home baked bread, cookies, and lemon meringue pies to die for. Living farm-to-table before it was ever marketing lingo - milk from our own cow, Blackie; veggies from our massive garden; a hundred chickens and a beef in the freezer. (Thankfully, we had a chicken plucking machine to streamline a particularly tedious chore. Envision a large sanding belt, but with hundreds of rubber fingers. Good times!)
I was in middle school before I ever heard of mushrooms coming out of a tin can - on a good year, we harvested 5 gallon buckets at my grandpa’s farm. Same with wild blueberries - I spent quite a few summer mornings wondering how my Ukrainian baba wasn’t roasting in her long-sleeved sweater as we all filled endless ice cream pails with tiny wild blueberries. And all winter, the fruits of summer graced the supper table with reminders of sweet, balmy days. This was how you managed with 7 kids and plenty of acreage in rural Alberta.

Farm With A View, Victor, Montana

Spring means yard work - raking, mowing, tidying planting beds - also known as “a great exercise opportunity”. I actually prefer exercise with a built in purpose: a walk that includes conversation with a friend or a useful destination like the library or post office, yard work that yields a visibly completed task, weight lifting while listening to an informative ebook. An extra objective makes for stronger motivation to put down my current book and get moving.