One Road In - Tally Lake, Near Whitefish, Montana

“[He] drove the threads of back roads and gravel lanes that knitted the farms and hamlets of Black Earth County together in a loose fabric of commerce and community. “ -The River We Remember by William Kent Krueger , p 103 (Lg Type)

—Click here for more about Tally Lake in Western Montana—-

The Road To Town - Missoula, Montana

“Some of the changes in my life were imposed, and some were chosen - if by "chosen ” I may mean that I chose what I seemed already to have been chosen by, desire having obscured the alternatives. And each change has been a birth, each having taken me to a new life from which I could not go back. 

And I have asked myself, "Would I have known such births if, from Pigeonville or Lexington, I had taken one of the paths by which people get somewhere and make something of themselves? " But of course I have no answer.”

-from Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry, p.299

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!)

Long-legged Morning Shadows - Livingston, Montana

“A person without a sense of humor is like a wagon 

without springs. It's jolted by every pebble on the road.”

  -Henry Ward Beecher (1813-1887)

Diminished Visibility - Missoula, Montana

Visibility is down to 3 miles at the Missoula, Montana, airport, but I think it's even less as you head to the east side of town. Despite the unhealthy fug, we are thankful to not see flames on the mountains bordering town and continue to pray for communities with far greater fire-related concerns.

 

Long Road Home - Near Ovando, Montana

Walking out to the school bus on childhood weekday mornings, our driveway seemed to be at least a mile long.. We moved from the farm when I was 12, and the first time I drove by our old home as an adult, I realized my younger perspective was rather skewed - a mile was extremely far-fetched. Six-year old eyes - and little legs - see a view entirely their own.

Perspective is an interesting thing. When you're in the middle of your own, it's hard to see any other. Rather along the lines of "can't see the forest for the trees". But if we can draw from other experience - even borrowed will do! - and mentally and emotionally step slightly outside our immediate circumstance, we see a bigger picture that is often less dire than we'd first supposed. And this can, in turn, inform our next choices with an entirely different, brighter light. 

Enact, pause, repeat. 

And be reminded how this living and learning requires time and grace!

Storm Front - Near Drummond, Montana

"By early evening all the sky to the north had darkened and the spare terrain they trod had turned a neuter gray as far as the eye could see. They grouped in the road at the top of a rise and looked back. The storm front towered above them and the wind was cool on their sweating faces. They slumped bleary-eyed in their saddles and looked at one another. Shrouded in the black thunderheads the distant lightning glowed mutely like welding seen through foundry smoke. As if repairs were under way at some flawed place in the iron dark of the world.” - From 'All the Pretty Horses' by Cormac McCarthy

NorthBound, Shelby, Montana

vernal by joanna dibble
i hear the cranes again
riding the thermals upward
this warming morning
calling and circling, they
fall into the long v shape
an arrow swiftly northbound

Read more from joanna dibble at her Hello Poetry site.

Night Lights, Butte, Montana

“Looking down from the mountain, it’s like
someone threw diamonds all over the floor.
But coming into the valley, the lights illumine
what is true, and real.

That‘s what the city‘s like - surreal & dazzling from afar.
But when you get down to touchstone reality,
It‘s pretty much the same as right here…

Because you can‘t leave yourself behind.”

- from Cubic Zirconia by (ahem) Cyndy Hull






I know, I know - what has it come to that I’m quoting my unpublished journals? But descending into the night lights of Butte, America, will forever remind me of reading words fresh from my pen and realizing, “I think I just wrote a country song…”
Not that I have anything against country music; I just never aspired to write a song in that category. For the record, that’s my listening genre of choice on Montana road trips - it just seems right. Hit the radio’s Seek button to find a clear country station, then sing along once you catch the tune. Absorb a little down-home flavour via local news and commercials. Smile at the live and unfettered elation of caller number four when the DJ announces yes! they’re the winner of county fair concert tickets. And on rolling stretches bereft of any station at all, open your eyes wider, take it all in, and let your soul feed on the quiet.