It Was Beautiful....

One of the things I've started doing this winter is to actively look for beauty. After being such a frumpy grump for days on end, I thought it would help. Like a little assignment that I could keep in my head and work on every day. 

Eastern Montana is NOT filled with great beauty for the vast majority of the winter. Don't get me wrong, I think I live in one of the most glorious places in the world. The first few lines in the song "America the Beautiful" are quite obviously about Montana. ("Oh beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain. For purple mountains majesty above the fruited plain...") But in the depths of winter, it's pretty grey and cheerless. EVERYTHING is grey and cheerless, even the people for the most part. We're like bowls of day old oatmeal....cold, bland, lacking color. 

Anyway, my plan was to find one beautiful thing every day, with no repeats; meaning, of course, that I have to work a little at it, seek with new eyes, be observant and present in the moment or I might miss that one, new, beautiful thing of the day! 

The strangest things are lovely when you start looking with the right "lens", so to speak.

One such strange, beautiful thing I saw last week and I'm still pondering it. 

When I go to Miles City, I usually have an intimidating "to do" list and a deadline....school bus time. In order to meet the bus in time, I need to leave Miles an hour ahead which means no later than 2 p.m. It's always hurry, hurry and sometimes I don't even eat lunch because it takes too much time. 

I had to drop off a box of books at the St. Vincent Thrift store before I left town, so I zipped to the back of store to take care of it. 

The back of St. V's is next to an alley, o-l-d motel parking lot, and it's pretty tough looking. As I was getting back to my car, I looked down the alley/parking lot and saw what appeared to be a scruffy old-ish homeless guy with a big convenience store go-cup of coffee. I don't know that he was homeless, but he had that look about him. Perhaps his home was a cardboard box or he was just traveling through. (Being homeless in Miles City in January would encourage a body to travel through, that's for certain.) He was wearing baggy grey and tan clothes that hadn't seen much care for a long time, had long hair and a long beard in the same shape as the clothes.  

I almost missed it.

He was shuffling along, there, careful not to spill the coffee or whatever was in the cup, eyes to the ground. But in an instant, as though someone had called his name, he looked up at the top of the building where the pigeons were. You know pigeons....dirty, grey and tan, homeless or near to it.  As he looked up, a bunch of them took to the sky in a very un-pigeou-like swirl of grace, silent except for the sound of their wings. For a small minute, he and I both watched them, mesmerized by the abrupt bird dance in the air. When I finally looked from the sky back to him, he was smiling. 

I am still unsure what was so beautiful...

The dirty grey/tan man watching dirty grey/tan birds in a dirty grey/tan alley.  It really shouldn't have been, you know? But every day I've thought of how lovely it was, just that moment that no one else saw. 

I hope you find some beauty every day too, this weekend. Keep your heart and eyes open!

Snowmen and Hedgehogs

Winter is HARD.

It just is. 

I think it's less hard for people who live near ski resorts and can afford to buy season passes and all.

And I think it might be less hard for Floridians. (Except those Floridians who are waiting on spring training in Ft. Meyers. Winter's pretty hard on them, too.)

Part of the reason you haven't read anything on the Chronicles is that after Christmas, I tend to roll up like a frostbitten hedgehog in my "burrow" on the prairie, waiting, waiting for sunshine and warmth. Hedgehogs don't have a lot to write about, really. And if they DO somehow come up with something, it's likely to be grumpy, so better to grumble to one's bellybutton than publish it, right?

You know what else makes a grumpy hedgehog?

Ridiculous, overly ambitious goals to accomplish in January. It's the longest year of the months, my friends, and it's made much, much longer by strenuous workouts, protein shakes, purging of cupboards, sobriety, increased fruit and vegetable consumption and so forth. Any fault I found with myself in 2016 will be eradicated in January. At least, that's the determined plan on December 28th. 

Grumpy hedgehogs are anti-social, too.  Not because they don't like people necessarily but because socializing requires an enormous amount of positive conversation (remember, the hedgehog has nothing to talk about), wearing clothes that are not stretchy athletic wear (nothing fits right after the holidays), and polite declining of refreshments unless it happens to be raw carrots or unsweetened hot tea. It's much easier to watch 3 seasons of Death in Paradise while snuggled down in the burrow, trying to pretend it's not -20 degrees right outside the window. For the 7th straight day in a row. Amen. 

So, I'm trying to open myself up to embracing certain things about winter. Such as the idea that it's perfectly acceptable to have some sort of soup three times a week and no one bats an eye. It's a good time to sew and knit and paint if one is into that sort of thing. Reading is encouraged; to disappear into a book is basically required in winter months, isn't it? Winter sweaters and layers are very forgiving to holiday bodies. (The one that will be brilliantly toned by March if all goes according to plan.) People play cards in the winter; I don't, but those who do seem to find it great fun. And for my friends who ski and dogsled and snowmobile, it's a glorious time! 

That was me trying to be positive.

I know. 

It was a feeble, trite attempt and nobody bought it, least of all this grumpy frostbitten hedgehog who is sincerely thinking of going back to wine in the evenings and just getting through to February.

To be continued... 

Prairie Hike

We had a beautiful prairie hike before the rains and snow hit this week.

Looking to the east from a high butte.  Tessie explored as hard as she could, saying (I'm sure) "This is the most GLOOOO-RIOUS day of my life!"

Twilla, on the other hand, is not high energy. We were a long ways from her couch. She still had fun, but it was probably not the most glorious day of her life. (She is a glamour girl stuck in a redneck world. Very trying...)

Loved the feeling of being on top of the world!

See those little white buildings off in the distance?  That's the shop, my in-laws' house and garage! We spent a lot of time looking for distant buildings, like the pellet mill in Jordan, which you can actually see from this point!

You're going to get plant pictures. That's all there is to it. Everything is about to turn grey and tan, so I am soaking up the little bits of color!

Angus found big mounds of clay and would climb up on them to make clay balls which he DESPERATELY wanted to chuck at someone, but no one would let him. Shocking.

I'm always fascinated by the lichen on the rocks. Isn't it stunning?

And the currant bushes echo the same colors...

A muddy, gunky, yucky little reservoir to swim in!  Talk about stinky dogs after this!

A whole day spent with Dad, just exploring, is a big treat.

Oh! Check this out! My Gramps used to tell us to always look at anthills because they excavate all sorts of things like Indian beads and shells. This little anthill had a couple sea shells...see the white one next to the ant? I was kind of astonished that my camera was able to focus and clearly shoot this.

I think sagebrush is beautiful.

We found another reservoir and the kids went to frog hunting. 

See the little swirl in the water? That's a frog. Angus totally missed them, and was dejected after half an hour of amphibian-less efforts.

The sand rocks are sculpted by the weather; rain and wind hollow and shape them, unlikely artists but faithful. 

We always look for initials and carvings in the rocks. It's irresistible, scraping one's name and date into these stones! I don't know who P.M. is. Nature is wearing away the details...

The grasses are graceful in their last days, aren't they?

The Farmer found a wee pile of purple glass and porcelain chunks scattered in the grass. 

I always wonder about who lost precious things out here. And they WOULD be precious, because it would have been so very far from any town, hauled out by rough wagons or carts. 

On our way back home, we checked salt'n'minral and jumped a little bunch of mule deer. This picture was taken from the moving side-by-side Honda and is not the best.  The deer were in good, fat condition and they didn't run very hard.  

COWS!

We stopped to look at tipi rings, too, but the crew was pretty played out by that point.  It was hot. We were dirty. The dogs smelled. The tween girl was barely able to tolerate another minute with her brother and mother. 

So we went home. 

Today it's cold and wet and grey. There's snow in the air and we're pulling out the winter clothes, sadly. I'm grateful we had a day of sunshine together before this hit!

Just a Moment...

Maggie's getting to the age where she's very self-conscious and often says, "NO PICTURES, Mom!" so these are precious, rare moments of time, little bits of realness and freedom.  They take my breath away...

I Might Have to Move to Australia...

...just so I can meet the people who put together and are featured in this magazine.

I was packing my "bag of wonders" as the kids call it for the trip to Billings and was just about to put these magazines in when I thought, "OH! I haven't blogged about THESE!" So everything came to a skidding halt so I could tell you about this incredible publication that my friends Myron and Ada subscribed to for me...

I know.

Focus.

But this is really, really special.  You'll be glad I'm a flake when you look a little closer...

The periodical is called "graziher" and it's about/for/of women in Australian agriculture and LIFE. It's independently published and is one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen. The paper is thick and sturdy, good quality, so it can bounce around in a farm truck or have a pie set on it to cool and you'll still have a good read. The photographs...oh, it's like they took my camera and captured the images I would have, except probably more professionally. Either that or they have amazing photo editors who spiff up the scenes.  

I love the fonts.  Yes. Even the typography is well done!

It shows women making a difference in their communities and branching out to impact world culture...

It portrays the tricky beauty in ranching. Not everyone appreciates a good cow picture, but I do! (And I think you all are starting to as well, as much as I inundate you with them.) Even the sheep in this magazine look good. I'm not a sheep person at all, so that's saying something big here.

There are recipes, too, but only a couple and they're really practical and fresh. Nothing with frou-frou ingredients that would be hard to get your hands on or keep in the pantry. (I'm going to do this tart, but I need to convert the measurements!)

Poetry (and book reviews)...

FASHION! But just a little. It's almost an afterthought....as though the editor said, "Well, we'd probably better have SOMETHING fashion-y..."

This particular ensemble is one that i'm going to try to copy, somehow, for this fall/winter.

There's art, too....not just photographic art, but watercolor and pottery and metal and screen printing art! 

One of my favorite features is the article they include in each issue (so far...all two that I have) about the "pioneers"; the women who preceded them in Australia, those who you look up to and say, "Someday, I want to be like HER." 

I wish a magazine such as this existed for women in Montana. 

Nothing political or with an agenda, but a good strong read that encourages and motivates us, that portrays us as we really are. 

If you'd like to look at graziher in person, you're welcome to drop by and have coffee (and perhaps the tart), look through and have a visit! 

Due to the fact that they're from Australia and basically irreplaceable, I'm not going to lean them out but I WILL share them here. 

(Yep. That's the way to get company!)

Myron and Ada, thank you so very much. 

When I opened the first issue and leafed through about 10 pages, I got tears in my eyes because I thought, "Finally. Someone 'gets' it. Someone made a magazine for us..." 

And then "But I'm not AUSTRALIAN!!!!"

Even so, I love it and it DOES encourage and inspire me here.

Okay, NOW I'll finish packing...

But not to move to Australia. 

I'm just going to Billings.

(Grandma came through surgery fine, as of noon today and now we can tease her about being into heavy metal because she's got a plate in her hip and a rod in her arm.)

I Think You Need to Know...

Today's assignment is to write about something I feel strongly about.
I thought a long time about this one, because this year it seems everyone feels strongly about EVERYTHING. No matter what I thought to write, it seemed heavy and controversial, and I don't know about you but I'm quite weary of that.

And then it came to me.

I believe that if you love someone, you should tell them.
Don't assume they'll be able to figure it out or that they already know or that you'll get to it someday or that it's too scary so it's best to avoid the matter.
Tell them.
Just say it.

In the family I was raised in, we always have and continue to do so.  When my grandpas each died, I was sad of course, but there was no doubt that the last words we spoke to each other were "Love you, Gramps" and "I love you, child".

(Yes, I'm crying, here. So many people I love and miss...)

It's good to back up the words with action, of course. Words can be empty without action, meaningless without the follow-up (or perhaps precedent). But I feel very, very strongly that if you love someone....friend or family or even pet....that you should tell them.

Some people are scary to say those words to. And there are those who are scared to hear them, or don't know what to do if someone has the nerve to speak of love to them.  That's okay. The older I get, the more I think "What's the very worst that could happen? An awkward moment? Is that worth the regret?".  It'll be okay. Tell them, anyway.

I have to go, now.  My grandma broke her hip and wrist yesterday and is having surgery today, so I'm going to try to get things squared away here, then head to Billings in the morning. I just had to get this blog post out, because it's too important to me to be packing it around in my head and heart.

For what it's worth, I also want you all, the readers of the Chronicles, to know that I so appreciate your faithfulness through the years. I've made some of the best friends of my life, and learned so much, laughed and cried and exclaimed. You really saved me in so many ways because when I started writing this, I felt very alone. Thank you. I do love you, too.

Bye, now!

A Word to the Wise

I was supposed to write this blog post yesterday.

In my planner, it just says "Words of Wisdom", so I'm not certain if I'm supposed to share my wisdom, or words of wisdom given to me along life's path...

I don't know.  Neither option is good, really. 

Most of the words of wisdom I got from my elders ran along the lines of practical knowledge, meant to keep me safe and help me along in the world. Besides the golden "treat others as you would want to be treated", I got things like this:

"Don't put your tongue on cold metal; it'll rip the hide right off it." (Standard wisdom that kids nearly always test, only to find out that it is indeed true.)

"If the fish aren't biting, use a chartreuse lure." (Grandpa Dutton)

"Use real butter and real vanilla, always." (Aunt Bert)

"Cut away from you. Remember Miles Phalen's missing eye? You don't want to end up like that." (A good threatening example that I never forgot.)

"When you're cooking, make enough for the group you have plus a couple extra. You never know when someone might drop by." (This happened fairly often, actually, and I still cook for six even when there's only four of us.)

"When someone asks you to dance, never turn them down. You don't know how much courage a guy has to get up to ask a girl to dance." (Dad)

"Don't go anywhere without a jug of water." (Everyone in Eastern Montana.)

"Dress in layers. You can always peel clothes off to get comfortable, but it's rough if you don't have any to put back on when it gets cold." (Again, everyone in Eastern Montana)

"Wait for the man to open your door and pull your chair out." (Both parents.)

"Be early for everything, at least 15 minutes." (Cardinal rule)

"File most recent to the top" (Mom)

And so forth...

I can tell you that I have no real wisdom myself, but have been carried through many years on the wisdom of others who were generous enough to share it with me.  There's a lot of nonsense floating around, false fronts and empty platitudes that my kids are going to bump into. I hope I remember enough of these for them to hang on to as well!

It's HARD

Happy September!

I was going to do other posts here before the blog challenge week hit again, but our computer monitor (that has faithfully served us for 17 years) died and we only just got the new one.  It seems so BIG and bright!

The topic on the challenge today is for me to write about something that's hard for me, something I struggle with.  That particular topic could be its very own blog!

Here's the biggest struggle I have, day to day:
FOCUS

Oh, my stars....

When the movie "Finding Nemo" came out, I immediately identified with Dory, the little blue tang fish, who (as she regretfully but truthfully admits) suffers from "short term memory loss".

It's not that I forget things immediately, but that I'm easily distracted from something which leads to distracted from THAT, which leads to.....what are we having for supper? 

The only thing I've found that works is to write every, every, EVERYTHING down.  I have a planner that I use daily, two calendars, highlighted reminders, lists for groceries/town errands/daily to-dos.  This blog challenge is in my planner with a little check box to it because if I don't have it there, I'll completely forget.  I can hide things from myself, like a chocolate bar, and if I don't see it, I don't remember it....isn't that awful?! On Sundays, I line out my week with a menu for all the meals and a review of "what's happening".

It really throws me when school schedules change or the day gets scrambled around, because my total daily plan flies out the window, and there it goes. It may SEEM as though I'm organized, but it's just the opposite.  I think truly organized people carry a mental checklist around in their heads and can adjust it on the fly.  

The good thing about this, though, is that I'm going to transfer seamlessly into senility.  No one will be able to tell when I lose my marbles because it will just be an extension of my day to day distraction and forgetfulness.  

**POSTSCRIPT**

Another thing I struggle with was highlighted this morning and I feel compelled to share it with you...

Backing up a trailer...horse trailer, camper trailer, little bitty lawnmower hauling trailer, LEGO trailer...I can DO it, but Lordamercy it's painful for anyone to watch because it takes a ridiculous amount of time and salty vocabulary.  

That's all the confessions for today, folks! 

Bigfork Summer 2016

Actually, it's Ferndale.

(For those detail people, you know...)

We flee the prairie in July every year and head to the mountains where it's cool and damp. You've already seen Glacier, but this is how we spent the majority of our time in Western Montana...

We build on to the ever-evolving magical tree house.

This trip, a lookout ledge was added! 

(It looks like a good spot for mommies to take cocktails up and stare at the stars while talking of big dreams to one another, too....)

Every project needs a supervisor who has no idea what's going on.

Mud pie pastries are concocted.

(The really do look like the fancy chocolate confections in nice restaurants!)

Hummingbirds are admired.

This is quite possibly the best representation of my daughter that I have...

She'd been clumping around in Grandma's heels, so we found her some glittery Dolly Parton ones of her own in which to practice graceful walking.

A troll hunt was postponed for the next series of pictures...

A handsome escort was procured...

(Reluctant, but not out-and-out rebelling at the idea of it all.)

Some instruction given on those tricky turns...

 One of the best moments of our visit, in my opinion.  

 Let the wild rumpus begin!!!

We have built-in, next-door "cousins".  Talk about HANDY!

They're not going to be next-door in a week or so, so I'm glad we had this relaxed time in July.

Houdini, patrolling the grounds...

 More "cousin" time, with different pals.

We're so blessed to have lots of loved ones in all corners of Montana!

Quinnie had his first loose tooth while we were there! 

I just want to squeeze him, every time I see him...

He usually lets me.

I love that kid.

Beethoven, killin' it in his cowboy hat! 

This is a chronicling of the Best Day of The Troll Hunters.

All I know is that trolls are repelled by soap, which is why everyone needs to take a bath before bed!

The hummingbird got TIRED.

It's crazy, to see them resting!

Sara 

My soul sister.

And then there's bike games! 

We LOVE the lions! 

One day, I happened by to see that one of the kids had carefully placed a bouquet on one of the lion's paws. I think the other one was laughing at him, but I can't swear to it....

In the lookout ledge!

Here's the playhouse kitchen, all tidied up.

They made peasant-style open shelves cool way before the trend hit HGTV.

As we leave, the kids say goodbye to every, every, EVERYTHING...

the mountains, the playhouse, the trees, the signs, the old guy walking his dog.

We leave a little benediction and prayer of gratitude behind every time we drive away, always conscious of the gift of love and joy in a blessed place of retreat.