A Montana Journal

A Montana Journal, ca. May 2021  We was up on the Rock Creek over in them Sapphire Mountains these few days past. The water was coming up high and fast with the thaw. Caught a few nice trout, though.  And the beauty of the Great Creator’s playful hand on them mountains and trees, rivers and rocks were abundant.  Of course them things do possess no awareness at all of my presence there or, for that matter, of my very being. They hold no rage, no grievance, no demand that a person pick side or proffer opinion. It is good enough to merely take up one’s own bit of space and quietly be, and that is a rare and cherished comfort in these times. I have not died today. And that is a fine thing. Yours truly…  

A Montana Journal, ca. April 2021   Sun was already on the job and attending to daily duty when me and Ol’ Black Tahoe, my trusted steed, lit out north up the valley heading to the Missouri River. We has been a long time sitting still here at present homestead and was overjoyed to be wandering once again in these Northern territories. We pushed on past Missoula and then skirted east of the Rattlesnake to arrive at Bonner, what sets along the Blackfoot. We followed that lovely river for many a mile through canyon and cut along steep and well-treed mountain. We was pleasantly rewarded time and again with wonderous sights of them Rocky Mountains covered in snowy loveliness.  Pressing ever onwards, we come to Lincoln, Montana, what was made famous by some angry feller who’d send explosive parcels via the US Postal Service, stealing health and happiness and life itself from other souls. He and his anger reside now, and rightly so, at some federal penitentiary. Coming out of that sp...