More Decor from MissWhoLaVille, Montana

Because it's so fabulous, I had to share a wider perspective of the local MissWhoLaVille decor. Be inspired to create, eat some roast beast, and feel free to sing the song!  And if you're in Missoula tonight, stop by the East Missoula Tree Lighting for cookies and carols and photos with Monte and Santa!

Miss-Who-La-Ville, Montana

My feelings on arriving at work got escalated from "happy " to "wheeeee!" earlier this week; our excessively talented events coordinator spent a festive chunk of last weekend creating what I call MissWhoLaVille in the company lobby. Out of all the things merry and bright, my favourite is this little orange tree. In addition to unflagging cheer, this winter wonderland has propelled me back to a favourite childhood Christmas pasttime:  hiding in the corner behind the tree. Only now I'm not avoiding work, but rather busily compiling my blog.

These Boots Were Made For Riding, Missoula, Montana

Last night, before band practice at our friends’ ranch, we walked down the little hill to their mum’s house via a well-worn path, in the dark, through the tall grass and apple trees. Talk about happy throwback to childhood - following the leader through the almost-dark, the clean, just-rained smell clinging to the grass, and a VHS player so we could watch a recently unearthed band video. Coming in the back door, I noticed extra Carhartt insulated coveralls hanging neatly in the closet, and knew there also would be extra boots, scarves, mittens, and hats. This is a commonality in the homes of varied ranching families we’re privileged to know. Besides keeping you warm on the outside, they furnish a warm, fuzzy feeling inside - the kind that comes from knowing you’re always welcome and won’t be left out.
While there's a lot to be said for paring down the contents of your life, this mindset should coexist with the practical complement of having enough to spare. As a dear friend is fond of saying, “Come on over - we can always water down the soup.” 

Winter Grass, Stormy Sky, Missoula, Montana

Christmastime often takes us back to childhood, sparking memories with seasonal smells, sights, and sounds. Anne Cassidy's post today about Chincoteague, Virginia, pulled me back to winter afternoons wiled away indoors with a friendly sunbeam and one of Marguerite Henry's many horse novels that peppered my childhood with engrossing historical tales.
May all your Christmas memories this year be of the bright variety.

(So, I was just kidding about the swans yesterday. I know, juvenile of me.)

Big Sky Beauty, Missoula, Montana

Should you actually compile a "Bucket List", be sure to include "View big Montana sky in person."

(If you zoom in to the pond, you may be able to see the swans.)

Horse Sense, Missoula, Montana

"I can always tell which is the front end of a horse, but beyond that, my art is not above the ordinary."  ~Mark Twain

The sensitivity of horses to the needs of people is an amazing thing. A few years ago, I went schmoozing at the Chamber of Commerce open house for an new equine therapy program in the Bitterroot Valley, and was amazed at the applications, from business teamwork to developmental challenges. Even without ever being an avid rider, I've always felt more grounded in the company of good horses. Kinda like with good people.

Wood and Wire, Missoula, Montana

Ranching friends remarked last week that they just finished replacing a corral fence that their dad built 25 years ago with help from my husband. Our farm fences always sported loops of jaunty blue and white baling twine on varied posts as a handy repair medium - so you could avoid replacing any segment for as long as possible.
Barbed wire fencing brings to mind cross-country treks with my siblings to pick wild strawberries in the next pasture, or to go sledding on the big hill at Grandpa's farm. It was always nice to have someone hold the wire strands apart as you hunched through to the other side, especially if you were cocooned in a snow suit. But no matter how careful we were, someone invariably snagged the fabric on their backside or pant leg. My mother definitely knew what she was doing when she insisted we change into play clothes as soon as we got home from school.

Alien Blooms, Missoula, Montana

A lovely work perk of my current job is the delivery of a fresh bouquet of flowers every Monday. (While I realize that they're not for me, per se, they are in my principal work area and I do spend the most time in their lovely presence, so just let me pretend, already.) The arrangements are always fabulous and often feature unique flowers, like this one picture above. As a side benefit, when annoying callers waste our time, the blooms are a demure reminder of the attractiveness of a peaceful mind. (Okay, Jane Austen is now leaving the building.)