Guest Post: Bitterroot Haven - Corvallis, Montana

Hooray for guest bloggers! 

Today we hear from Pat Richards (aka Big Sister #3). Since Las Vegas is their home base. Pat has been soaking up the outdoors and relishing Montana's summer daytime temps that are well below their accustomed 108 degrees Fahrenheit.

To see more of what Pat has been up to this year, check out their humanitarian travels at www.JourneysWithGod.com.

Thanks for sharing today's lovely thoughts and scenery, sis.

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Early morning stillness creates a haven where my heart reflects on the beauty of creation.  A tiny ecosystem filled with vibrant life.  Nature's beauty refreshes my soul.  I leave, ready to face the day.

Unlike my walking companion, an energetic short legged Pembroke Corgi named Trixie,  who pauses only to consider the next tantalizing scent along the path. 

-Pat R.

Never Too Late - Missoula, Montana

This little shock of new green caught my eye - unrepentant, these late-springing greens shall have their day in the sun along with their earlier-matured kin. 

"...Nothing is too late, till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate..."

- from Morituri Salutamus: Poem for the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Class of 1825 in Bowdoin College by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Gravel Bar View From West Broadway - Missoula, Montana

Looong evening walks offset the summer's ice cream indulgence, and send me treasure hunting for river poems.

"...Heed me and hear my loneliness. Split by a desire to be known 

by a crowd of solitaires and by one word split. 

A raven falls out of the yellow flame of a willow.

Its wings purely black buff sunlight. 

It paces the gravel bar, lifts into westerly sun. 

Wing flash. Black luster. Gone..."

- from The Word by Emily Warn

Bolt And Bricks - Polson, Montana

"If I could only remember that the days were, not bricks to be laid row on row, to be built into a solid house, where one might dwell in safety and peace, but only food for the fires of the heart."

- Edmund Wilson (1895-1972)

Moss And Timber - Garnet Ghost Town, Montana

"...Well quit of the world,
I framed a house of moss and timber,
called it a home,
and sat in the warm evenings
singing to myself as a man sings
when he knows there is
no one to hear..."

- from Poem of the Forgotten by John Haines (1924-2011)

A big "thank you" to word-weaver Will Nixon for sharing this cabin poem - and two others, including one of his own crafting - at his site.

Wind-Tossed Sky Over Flathead Lake- Polson, Montana

"And yet these flying fountains of all the rivers of earth, these armed and thundering legions of the storm, that beat down the forests with hail and bury the mountains in snow, and flood the plains with water, go floating over us at vast heights with all their mighty magazines when all our philosophy would require them to sink to the earth."

- Daniel March (1816-1909), "The Balancings of the Clouds," Our Father's House, or the Unwritten Word, 1869

little library - Missoula, Montana

"[My parents] read to live, the way they also went to the beach, or ate delicious food. Reading was like breathing fresh ocean air, or like eating tomatoes from old man Grbac's garden...

My parents, and librarians along the way, taught me about the space between words; about the margins, where so many juicy moments of life and spirit and friendship could be found. In a library, you could find miracles and truth and you might find something that would make you laugh so hard that you get shushed, in the friendliest way."

- Anne Lamott, “Good Friday World,” Salon, March 28, 2003

Pure Sugar - Missoula, Montana

""Back home they set fire to the canefield before they cut the cane. Burn away the leaves and rubbish so's they can press the cane to make sugar."

"Aye," Kate replied curiously. Where was this leading? 

"Life ain't nuthin' but a canefield. Sorrows burn away the trash. A person finds out what matters and what don't. What's left is the sweetness. Pressed out, boiled down, and purest crystal. One day, Miss Kate, you tastes the sugar and don't remember the ashes no more.""

-Miss Susan in Ashes Of Remembrance by Bodie & Brock Thoene, page 87

(Note to gentle readers: This is not what Def Leppard is singing about in "Pour Some Sugar On Me.")