Here a blog, there a blog

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind. There were many moments when I was inspired to write, but just couldn’t find time for it. The holidays bring a flurry of activity – gatherings with friends & family, winter travel and its inherent unpredictabilty, rich & plentiful meals complete with luxurious deserts, hand-crafting gifts & cards – all packed into a couple of weeks during a special time of the year, the winter solstice. Although there is now a thick blanket of snow on the ground, I captured the following in my journal back in mid-December when the ground was mostly brown:

I’ve been taking sunset hikes in the late afternoon up on the high piece of prairie we call the CRP*. I set out from the corrals and head north towards the Snowy Mountains, which are capped in clouds tinted pink with the setting sun’s rays. A flock of ravens flies low overhead en route to their evening roost. One raven breaks off from the group and swoops down over Doc’s head – curious about this odd interloper. He circles once and with a flap, satisfied that there is no meal here, he rises towards the clouds to join the rest of the group on their path south. Doc runs off to the edge of the sky, becoming small as a grain of rice. His creamy white fur catches the suns’ rays, illuminating his outline momentarily in a flash of gold.

We circle south along the edge of the property and soon see the Crazy Mountains, a jagged high range, in the distance. Our friends live at the doorstep of these mountains, a 90-minute drive away, but with much the same view we have from here. Such is the landscape of central Montana, endless sky and long stretches of rolling prairie broken up by mountain ranges and small towns. The corrals – and soon, our home – are located on Belmont Rd. I didn’t think much of this until my mother, who studied French in high school, pointed out that belle mont is French for beautiful mountain. “But of course!” I said with my best French accent. From here we can see five different mountain ranges, which are most certainly beautiful if not occasionally mind-blowing for this easterner accustomed to densely wooded spaces. As I head back on the last leg of my loop hike, the moon launches into the sky over the Bull Mountains and the darkening horizon; now soft blue then deep purple before dimming to the enveloping darkness of a rural night.

* The CRP land was formerly part of the federal crop reserve program