Bitterroot Mountains from Lee Metcalf Wildlife Refuge - Stevensville, Montana

Perfect pockets of sun and shadow - plus a lovely side of laughter among friends! -  made for a gorgeous fall ramble at the Lee Metcalf Wildlife Refuge. 

(I THINK that may be St. Mary's Peak in the background...  not as simple as I'd hoped to logic 

our this peak's location on a map.... please comment if you can confirm or deny.) 

Big Sky Hunting- Missoula, Montana

“...A rodless Walton of the brooks
A bloodless sportsman, I - 
I hunt for the thoughts that throng the woods,
The dreams that haunt the sky...”
- Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911), from The Bloodless Sportsman

A Good Day For Fishing - Bitterroot River, Hamilton, Montana

(Look close for the two fisher-persons, a bit left of the bend on the grassy right bank...)

"He told us about Christ's disciples being fisherman, and we were left to assume...that all great fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly fisherman and that John, the favorite, was a dry-fly fisherman."   -Norman Maclean (1902-1990), in A River Runs Through It

Pathless Woods - Grant Creek, Missoula, Montana

Here's another tea tag saying to go with your cuppa (& I must say, it's a serendipitous match for this photo): 

"There is pleasure in the pathless woods."

 -Lord Byron (1788-1824)

Courage To Walk In - Grant Creek, Missoula, Montana

"When we have the courage to walk into our story and own it, we get to write the ending.
And when we don't own our stories of failure, setbacks, and hurt - they own us."
-Brene Brown, Dare To Lead, p. 240

No jingle bells, but plenty of snowing and blowing up bushels of fun this week!
 

On Inspiration And Work - Winter - Grant Creek, Missoula, Montana

“Inspiration is for amateurs.

 The rest of us just show up and get to work.”

- Chuck Close, renowned artist, b. 1940

(Wishing you deep thoughts of how today's photo ties in with the quote....C.)

Changing Mystery of Now - Grant Creek, Missoula, Montana

"You just have to live, Ave, and let life unfold. Say what you mean.
You can't always think about what you've lost, or what you don't have, or what you didn't get. Because when you do that, you're missing out on the now...
We shouldn't let a day go by when we don't stop and think about what we are to each other and how the best part of that is the part that changes.
That's the mystery.
And that's the part of people that's divine. Accepting the unknown and trusting it."

 -Jack in  Home To Big Stone Gap, A Big Stone Gap Novel, p 162, by Adriana Trigiani

Lovely Moment - Clark Fork River, Missoula, Montana

"Sometimes it is enough to be near something lovely.
It doesn't require possession;
 nothing has to come of it,
 nothing need be created from it.
Let its purpose be
 to exist solely as a thing of beauty
 and provide joy."

- From Tony's Wife by Adriana Trigiani, p. 428

Winter Snow and Sunshine - Greenough Park, Missoula, Montana

Winter officially - at last! - and there is plenty of poetic odes to this season.

Click here to immerse in some popular winter poetry, including the full text of Douglas Florian's "Winter Eyes", 
and here to appreciate Janet Martin's thoughtful verse for now or any time of year.

"Look at winter
With winter eyes
As smoke curls from rooftops
To clear cobalt skies.

Breathe in winter
Past winter nose:
The sweet scent of black birch
Where velvet moss grows.
Walk through winter
With winter feet
On crackling ice
Or sloshy wet sleet....."
 - from Winter Eyes by Douglas Florian

7 Degrees Below - On Grant Creek, Missoula, Montana

Nothing like below-freezing temps to brisk up the walking pace! But with the sun beaming bright, illusory warmth, who am I to wimp out on a day like today?
 
BONUS: Today's quick-time stride generated a wee, wint'ry poem, to boot: 

winter walk
at nineteen degrees,
 snow squeaks under sole
(and in Celcius
 that's seven below!)
 -ch

Poured Out Autumn Palette - Missoula, Montana

“One should be a painter.

As a writer, I feel the beauty,

 which is almost entirely colour,

 very subtle, very changeable,

 running over my pen,

 as if you poured a large jug of champagne over a hairpin.”

-Virginia Woolf (1882-1941),

  from The Letters of Virginia Woolf: Volume Six, 1936-1941