A Montana Journal

A Montana Journal, ca August 2026   My peoples is here. Oldest daughter and the man what married her some 20 year past and become my son, them two kind young men they’s gifted me, and a fine young woman who might just join this family one day.      I am joyful beyond word they has come to visit this old man in these northern territories. We fished the Bitterroot, my home river.  And lit out one smoky morning up to the great range of mountains that is north of the Flathead named Glacier National Park. Brother Matthew, Uncle to my peoples, and who operates a growing business concern up here of Players Choice Outdoors, joined in our doings and trails traveled.  Ol’ Black Tahoe, my trusted steed, carried us well far and wide as we needed go. It is a joyful time to have them young’uns about. I have not died today. And that is a fine thing. Yours truly…  

A Montana Journal, ca. July 2026 They’s daises on the path down to the river. More of them, by quite the many, than peoples. They’s just being, and sharing some simple beauty for passersby. Living beneath the care and kindness of the Great Creator.  Me and brother Matthew crossed the divide a few day back and trailed here to the Rock Creek. A fine piece of water with rocky bottom, riffles and runs what hold fat trout. Ol’ Black Tahoe, my trusted steed, heavy with our traps, whiskey and water, carried us surefooted once again over them tall rugged mountains and to this high river valley. We was aiming to fish a bit, drink a bit, and rest ourself from quite the restless world. Perhaps that was cause for them daises to linger on my attention. They was angry at nothing. Didn’t call out, demand or insist. Or throw no stones, wishing evil on them that might lift ‘em from the earth and carry them away. Yet even so, they’d still give up their joy until they give up life itself. In these hi...