Tangential - Missoula, Montana

"Today’s tangents 
will become tomorrow’s arcs, 
and unforeseen connections 
will tie up your loose ends in a way 
that will make you want to slap your head and 
holler at your accidental 
brilliance."

- Chris Baty 

Dock - Flathead Lake, Polson, Montana

In case you wonder, “Why would anyone label their dock?”, the full inscription actually reads “PRIVATE DOCK”.
(Hmmmm... I hear the murmur - especially if you know I don't have a boat, or a dock, or convenient acquaintances who share such - wondering, how then did this photo come about?)
But given the lack of hangers-about, and the lure of this perfect, weathered pier, I ran with that golden maxim, “Sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness, not permission.”
And - lucky me ! - there was no need to request either! 
Untroubled, I sat down where the seagulls had not left their brand of graffiti and savoured the luscious lake and mountain view, to a soundtrack of lappy-lappy waves backed by a sighing wind section. 
Livin' a version of the Montana good life!

Alley Window, Missoula, Montana

Gauzy cheesecloth contrasts
against the practical metal and weathered wood.
The perspective you choose
can change your view.

Tenacious, East Missoula, Montana

A long time past, some bold soul passing marked their unique print on this old neighborhood fence. And through all the weathering years, their mark held fast and declared their nameless influence to any traveler of alleys and paths less taken.
 
And so it is with those who love, in everyday deed and truth. Even if their name escapes memory, their strong example leaves a clinging and distinct imprint, un-erased by life’s roughest seasons. When threatened by discouragement and status quo, we can choose to follow the trail they've marked toward undeterred truth, and be heartened.
So provoked, the road we travel is forever altered, and we are ever thankful.
 
Happy Valentine's Day.

Old-Timer, Missoula, Montana

There's somethin' 'bout old fences,
They've somehow earned their keep,
They'll be around from this day hence,
Ain't no need t' call 'em cheap.

They're alot like worn out cowboys,
The scars all tell a tale,
A young man once a ploughboy,
'Till his dreams one day took sail.

A fence can tell a story,
Of days, long since gone by,
A wanderin' cow chasin' her tail,
A cowboy wonderin' why.

That leanin'
fence post,
Sure has some grit,
Outstandin' most,
That seemed much more fit.

That post may be weathered,
And look pretty tough,
Worn where a horse teathered,
It's jagged and rough.

Cowboys is like fences,
Each one has its tales,
Scarred from old fences,
And weathered from the gales.

The point I'm tryin' t' make son,
That fence is worth the while,
It's earned the chance, t' make a stake,
On this ranch for a while.

It ain't about the money,
But that old fence 'il stay,
It sounds a little funny,
But you'll understand someday.

From “Old Fences and Old Cowboys” by
Slim Farnsworth
Read the entire poem here.

Rustic History, Fort Missoula, Montana

Split rail fences are an adaptable barrier, and early settlers in Montana’s west were all about adaptability.

Historically built where hardware was a scarce commodity, they can also be dismantled - in part or whole - if rails are later needed for other purposes.

Dock of the Bay, Flathead Lake, Polson, Montana

This snippet of dock is just below Fiesta en Jalisco restaurant on Flathead Lake in Polson, Montana.
I was somewhat mesmerized by the contrasts of line and texture and colour - the efficient curves of the cleat, the straight lines and grey scale of the weathered wood against the sinuous wavelets in the green green water.

Country Still Life, Corvallis, Montana

“Few people know how to take a walk. The qualifications are endurance, plain clothes, old shoes, an eye for nature, good humor, vast curiosity, good speech, good silence and nothing too much.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1803-1882

BIG thanks to my dear friend, M., for sharing random beautiful quotes. (The Sandurg Hungarian poem was also her splendid contribution.) 
If you have any favourites, please send them to me, & I'll try to match them to a future photo!

Homestead Ghosts, Corvallis, Montana

On our weekly walks, my sister & I sometimes take the worn track up through sparse adolescent pine trees and arrive at a high pasture and this well-weathered shed. A long time back, someone was extremely industrious - picking rocks to clear the field, building fence around the hilltop view. They prob’ly never thought of a day when their efforts would become mainly picturesque.

Old Shed Ruminations, Hamilton, Montana

"The long unmeasured pulse of time moves everything. There is nothing hidden that it cannot bring to light, nothing once known that may not become unknown. Nothing is impossible."

SOPHOCLES, Ajax

A Few of My Favourite Things: Rocks & Weathered Wood

For  a good part of my life, I've been picking up nifty rocks. In my younger years, I wasn't allowed to take them home. Adulthood has freed the fetish.  I remember finding a couple flat, slatey stones - perfect additions to my emerging walkway - on a river walk with my muscley nephew, M., & convincing him that we could both easily carry one back, since we were less than a mile from the car.

Weathered grey wood evokes steadfastness, perseverance - aged homesteads, still standing; cedar-shingled beach cottages, shelters from coastal winds. 
The old cedar plank pictured here was a gift from previous owners of our little Hamilton house. It's a great 3-season place to sit & practise guitar, enjoying the front-yard flowers, saying "hi" to strolling neighbors.