Lariat Jingle, Missoula, Montana

Perhaps you'll have better luck than I at finding a clever lariat quote or poem. Sigh.

Tucked In, Missoula, Montana

With this morning’s temperature at 11 degrees F, it’s a good thing I tucked in the last of my fall bulbs on the weekend, when the low was still a balmy 30 degrees.

Bridle Array, Missoula, Montana

"It excites me that no matter how much machinery replaces the horse, the work it can do is still measured in horsepower.....even in this space age. And although a riding horse often weighs half a ton, and a big drafter a full ton, either can be led about by a piece of string if he has been wisely trained. This to me is a constant source of wonder, and challenge."
- Marguerite Henry

(Thanks to NoBit Bridles for a ponder-inducing quote from one of my favourite childhood authors.)

Caseophile Bliss, Corvallis, Montana

“I was one of those. 

I meddled with dark powers. I summoned demons. I ate the entire little cheese, including the rind.”  -  Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“A silence fell at the mention of Gavard. They all looked at each other cautiously. As they were all rather short of breath by this time, it was the camembert they could smell. This cheese, with its gamy odour, had overpowered the milder smells of the marolles and the limbourg; its power was remarkable. Every now and then, however, a slight whiff, a flute-like note, came from the parmesan, while the bries came into play with their soft, musty smell, the gentle sound, so to speak, of a damp tambourine. The livarot launched into an overwhelming reprise, and the géromé kept up the symphony with a sustained high note.”

― Émile Zola, The Belly of Paris

Puss In Barn, Missoula, Montana

"Cats never strike a pose that isn't photogenic." - Lillian Jackson Braun

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.

Aspen Avenue, Missoula, Montana

"My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled,
Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun..."   - Gerard Manley Hopkins, from "Binsey Poplars"

Planting Hope, Hamilton, Montana

Hot tip for any plant-loving procrastinators - er, rather, busy people putting the last minute to effective use: Lowe’s still has spring bulbs for sale. 
Even better: they’re ON sale at fifty percent off.
 
I bought six bags - after putting back three bags, thanks to a wee self-chat about realistic expectations.
 
I’m a little excited. 

Come Saturday - after coffee, of course- , you'll find me bundled up and tenderly placing papery-swathed bulbs of promise: grape hyacinths, alliums, daffodils, fragrant hyacinths, and tulips. 
These will stand out nicely amidst the foliage of the later-blooming lilies and fritillaria I tucked in last weekend. 

Only 124 days until spring!