Lichen Moss, Crazy Creek, Missoula, Montana

Yes, yes, it's another moss photo - but all by itself, no 5-day series - promise (envision a teeny, tiny rainbow to add credibility).
Semi-huffing and puffing up the trail at Crazy Creek, I noticed this tufty, Dr.Seuss-ish moss all over the place. I realized that, a week earlier, I hadn’t seen any of this variety just a few miles up the road at Pattee Canyon. On my descent, a fellow hiker and his dog passed me (neither of them remotely huffing or puffing) but then stopped to ask what picture subject required overhead hyper-extension of my arms. This led to a conversation about the hanging moss, and my observant and well-hiked trail companion (the two-legged one) explained that Pattee Canyon used to be rife with even longer versions of the stuff until recent years. He’d encountered people picking the moss into big bags one season, and speculated that collectors had simply over-harvested or perhaps disturbed the balance of the growth cycle. That must have been the year moss crafts were all the rage. Gotta have that faux topiary. Because, when you think about it, nothing says class like indigenous moss hot-glued to a Styrofoam ball and skewered atop a homegrown stick.

Brick and Branch, Missoula, Montana

Recent settings have had me taking photos of things above my head- odd wall outlets, fantastic moss, tree branch patterns. Since I routinely take 10-20+ shots of a subject, full reach extension has been a regular workout, kind of like holding the plank position for core strength. Good thing serendipitous subject matter was interspersed with a fair bit of walking or I might have ended up with Popeye arms! "Ah-guh-guguguh!" (which is supposed to be Popeye's distinctive laugh, not me desperately requesting a Heimlich manoeuvre.)

Organic Glow, Crazy Canyon, Missoula, Montana

Gazing into the crisp, winter quiet of the forest, I watched the shadows sharpen and moss-sheathed trunks illuminate to a verdant glow.

Crazy Canyon Charlie Brown Tree, Missoula, Montana

With a little tinsel and a shiny red glass ball, I'm sure this little sprout would be in the running for a 2013 Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

Power Up, Downtown, Missoula, Montana

My husband’s unbiased, spontaneous reaction to this photo: “What is it? It looks like some kind of alien spaceship…”. Perhaps this image functions like a Rorschach drawing, only with a side of colour. Hmmm…what does the alien reference signify?

Any other off-the-cuff contributions?

Window On Time, Downtown, Missoula, Montana

Thanks to my oldest big brother, 8-track cassettes shall forever in my mind be associated with Donny Osmond’s “Last of the Red Hot Lovers” and a little white Toyota Celica that boasted orange and yellow pin striping. At least that’s the way I remember it from when I was, what, five? This tells you that I have pretty cool big brothers, to even have tolerated me to ride along with them anywhere and partake of such high school coolness. But isn’t it fascinating what memory snapshots the human mind selectively retains? I couldn’t tell you what colour shoes I wore on the first day of school, but I recall the detailing on my brother’s car. And building things with huge red and royal blue cardboard bricks that our kindergarten teacher stashed for indoor playtime. Five…that was a good year.

Picnic Blanket, Pattee Canyon, Missoula, Montana

One of my big sisters (who shall remain unidentified so as to provoke family speculation) gently informed me last night that the pine bark shots were great, but tolerances allowed for maybe only one more photo in the series. This was her opinion even after I explained my inspiration gleaned from an Ansel Adams exhibit hosted by the Missoula Art Museum. A take-away from that viewing was that he didn’t care if several close-up photos were of the same foliage subject, each capturing a slight difference in detail or mood or shift of light. Apparently, if Ansel Adams liked something about a photo, he put it out there. And obviously, some people got what he was trying to convey because those series were up on display, provoking the rest of us to enjoy beauty in the quiet details. But I will heed the advice given, because my mum said I have to listen to my big sisters. Too bad the bossy odds are against me, with three of them and just the one me! (Now that might generate a comment - or three!)

Lofty Moss, Pattee Canyon, Missoula, Montana

In the historical novel, “Every Fixed Star“, author Jane Kirkpatrick describes women in the 1800s harvesting a specific variety of moss, then soaking, shaping and drying it for winter food which, reconstituted in the middle of a cold winter, was considered quite tasty. Imagine that.  Actually, imagine it and then commence being very thankful.
Throughout the story, she also explores the concept of metier, a French word meaning vocation or forte, but with strong shades of finding work to which one is best suited. Having recently been through a fairly major up-heaving transition in my own life, I was drawn to the repeated reflection on metier in the lives of her characters. So far, I’ve come to think that, for many, the search is ongoing, flowing with times and seasons. And in the midst of these, we need to be fully present and give ourselves grace to appreciate the here and now.