A Montana Journal, January, ca. 2020 The snow is falling in this mountain valley. They’s saying we’ll have our full share of it down here below, more in them high places. Me and Ol’ Black Tahoe, my trusted steed, is out and in it. I am grateful my good companion is of heavy breed and stands steady on these icy trails. We have clung to many a wintry path in these northern territories and he has not once lost purchase. This cold, grey day seems fitting for the task ahead. Today I ride, and without haste, to say farewell to an old woman who had been on a different trail. The one what leads through the veil, and from this being into the next. She died at Christmastime. I was humbled to have been along side her, from time to time, as she journeyed onward these past months. As I knew her, she was gentle of heart, kind in spirit. She would tell me her stories and ask me for mine. She was in the healing profession, and lived her lifetime caring for others. And is now, I am confident...