Lewisia rediviva

they are small and leafless
growing in gravelly, dry soil
that is pounded through the winter with harsh snows
and scorched in the summer with intense sunlight

they are bright with color
sustaining people here with bitter vittles
as communities collect them for feasts
and taste them during times of famine

they lie dormant in my planters
exposed to what the world will bring
and me, investing in the ways of this landscape
nearby these seeds, hoping in spring

thoughtful spot

it is easy

to feel weightless

in a sea of glacial melt warmed by the sun

rolling with the wind funneled by moraines

it is peace

to let go

of the weights which keep us from deeply breathing 

as waves lap perfect stones, clanking against each other.

i come this way often

because sometimes

I am more water than roots

blame it on the bluegrass

Like a firefly night
saturated with dew
a slight chill, a warm fire

I am drawn to you.

Faint resonance of strings
vibrating a wooded space
a pluck, a twang

a landscape singing grace.

Like a sleepy child
wandering towards repose
the day yawns

and I yearn to curl up with you.

Everything All The Time

Drifts

It's quiet.
Soft.
The christmas lights are as bright as a match, in a very dark camp.
The Hellgate winds move cold, snow, our antlers sway in it.

Remarkable to have shelter at a moment like this.

Today, while working, I bundled up to explore, photograph, try to understand in a way which research will never reveal. To feel. Layers and layer and layers. Sun but still wicked cold - safe only by hiding bare skin from the wind. I wandered.

After footsteps, heartbeats, in wonder I made my way back to the entry point. Knee high snow, and a few yards away from the haven of my car. On the other side of the panels.... a man... smoking.

He asked me for a dollar, for the bus. I wasn't bluffing when I told him I had no money. I scanned the scene. External frame backpack, heeled boots like a fire worker, the back cuff worn from the bottom of his carhartt type pants. He sat on the bench, blocking the panel, and stuttered though not knowing where he was, where the bus was, where downtown was, and getting kicked out of the gas station.

ALL I could think was Sir - you need shelter.

I suggested warm buildings, places I thought someone would, could offer him something. he said Nah, no thanks. I guess I'll just stay right here.

Drunk I thought. Something. I encouraged him to get inside and wished him luck. Then something funny happened - he wished me luck too.

I got in my car and left, happy to have parked with an escape route. But worried about him.

A crossroads, a canyon, steeped in stories.

Last week - I was in the Emergency Room. A few days later I was dog sitting for my best friend. The next afternoon, her mother died. Phone calls. Logistics. My first casserole.

But somewhere in between I slid the glass door open, with three dogs watching, closed it behind me, and walked to the fence between the river and I. Frozen.

Wind. Cold. Quiet. Deep sadness. Deep thankfulness.

Saturated in the moment, I breathed, returned indoors.

It's still out there, all around, as we nestle in our homes. There is just enough light. Just enough warmth. Just enough food. Just enough love to continue propelling us though the night, into the next day.

Each of us needs these reminders - the yin to a yang.

Boreas. I know that wind. It brings a peace, a soothing about knowing, being, and doing what I need. You know where you need to be his voice echoes, you're getting there. You will get there.

As I lay me down to sleep, my heart is in my neighbor's apartment. With a best friend. Sorting and sifting though Life.

My wish is for a weary, lost, traveler to find solace and rest.

My hope is that tomorrow, we all understand, just enough, to bring light to that day and continue us all forward in our journeys.

But then again, a little luck sure couldn't hurt.

Faceplant: Dark, smooth, unfiltered, and malty.

It's a wild morning in the canyon. Our dog rope is frozen stiff and the Hellgate winds have drifted a carpet of snow in front of the sliding door. The air is cloudy with wind-displaced snow.
After the initial wake-up pee, Geronimo and I get back in bed. I woke up hot this morning... in an apartment we keep at 60 degrees thermostat.
Last night Dacia called me, looking for adventure. In the right place. She caught me eating BBQ pizza, drinking a local unflitered Doppel Weizen, dancing in the kitchen. I love that in a lot of ways our friendship is just as it was ten years ago. Me in the dorms, her in a little apartment, a quick call and we're in her car going who knows where around town. Only now I have Geronimo, she has Maya. Excellent additions in my humble opinion.
I'm extra giggly by the time I walk into her mom's apartment next door. Two 7.5 % beers... she loads my silly self and Maya into the van and we drive across town to her apartment. "I swept the snow off your car this morning! It was my little love note to you." she says. "But I didn't leave the apartment until 6pm today! Shoot!" We laugh. I'm almost sad purely for that gesture that I didn't drive to the office at 8am. What love.
We get to her place and she sends me to her storage unit to inspect a futon mattress her neighbor stashed in her unit. She needs it out for Maya's toys, I need to not feel the slats under my current futon mattress. We tromp through snow loading baby clothes for donation, my backpacking food, and a pretty nice futon mattress into the van. And drive back across town.
We talk about guys, work, our homes, our babies. We vent, we dream, we hope, and laugh until we nearly pee our pants.
I start singing and dancing with Maya. More more she giggles. Shy, but always charming she steals the show around my home.
We get this mattress into my room and I decide the best thing is to fold over my current mattress, with all my bedding still on it, and just... you know... sliiiiiide the second one under it. Yeah right. These floppy mattresses, weighted down with a Montana amount of blankets- Dacia has the foot, I have the head, and I yell for Errin, Miss Sporty Spice to bring her muscles in here and work out this issue. So Maya climbs on the bed and starts pushing. Sweet almost two year old Maya. What a mighty baby. Errin, of course is the secret ingredient, and somehow we work it all out - panting, laughing.
"Princess and the Pea!" Errin yells. =) Yep. But the real princess hops on before I can even try it out... and Geronimo stays in bed the rest of the night.
Dacia threatens that aunty Bekah will have to try to get Maya to sleep after all the excitement.... but I know I'm off the hook, because I don't have what My calls "milkyside".
Morning - Errin's already made coffee. I grab a cup, topped with some of Andie's extra creamy whip cream. Mo and I get back in the warmest, coziest, loveliest nest in all of Missoula.
Another beautiful day of blessing, love, laughter - and having just enough shelter from a howling wind to know just how lucky I am.