The view from here

It is still January, the month that goes on and on. I thought I'd catch up with some pictures from the past few weeks. The view from here is full winter. I keep coming upon flocks of cedar waxwings chirruping their high pitched "bzeee" from the top of a cottonwood or between the berries of a mountain ash. I know they winter over in Montana, but somehow they make me hopeful for spring. Is it too soon? I think I can answer my own question: it surely too soon to even let that word flutter around my mind. And yet the sight of the waxwings does seem to warm me.

Goldeneyes, on the other hand, make me frigid. On Sunday afternoon, we all walked along the Clark Fork River in the middle of town. Great floats of ice drifted west with the current and a strong wind blew out of Hellgate canyon, sweeping down the riverfront. As I looked at the river, I noticed dabbling peaceably mid-river were a brace of goldeneyes. Unlike mallards, these ducks dive entirely under the water, making small fishlike flops as they arc under the current. Bundled in my boots, coat, hat, gloves and scarf, I felt a little awed by the goldeneyes and their adaptation to such a living. I should think there were easier ways to go about the business of survival - flying south for instance - but evidently it must work for them, and the competition for this coldwater niche didn't seem so tight. Let's hear it for feathers and a nice layer of fat.

We have only had a slight dusting of snow since our last big drop a few weeks ago. I'm hopeful for another round so we can again hit the local ski trails. Until that happens, we will continue to content ourselves with walks. Than and I took advantage of some sunshine the other day to walk the boys up Waterworks Hill. Though it was sunny on the northside of the hill, the Missoula valley was still socked in with an Inversion (capitalized because it is certainly a presence, if not a proper proper noun). If you don't know what that is, count yourself fortunate. Let's just say when an inversion is caught in the valley we can be socked in for days. When this happens I find myself thinking, "I seem to remember there was a mountain around here somewhere. Now where did it go?" When the inversion thinned enough above our neighborhood for us to remember where the mountains stand, Than and I ran the boys up top. Actually, Corin ran himself and remarkably speedily too. Seth had to be carried as he accidently left the house in one of his shoes and one of Corin's (if you would like to know how that happened, you may direct your inquiries to his Uncle Than) . The following pictures are from our delightful walk.

Looking into the Inversion

The view the other way


A Frosted Mount Jumbo

100 Years Young

Our dear friend, Ruth, turned 100 today. Twenty or so people gathered at her home to celebrate this momentous birthday. The Missoulian even pitched in by running a feature on our special Centenarian. For the past two and half years, I have been making meals for Ruth two nights a week. What I thought was going to be a part time job, has turned into an incredible gift: a friendship with Ruth that is immeasurably important for me, and the chance to be part of an amazing group of people - the community of folk that love and care for Ruth.

Ruth and Patricia

Ruth sees opportunities for joy everywhere. Everyday things - the colors in her garden in the summer, the taste of a fresh strawberry, the light flooding in from her front window, a glass of warm milk at bedtime, the voice of a friend reading the paper aloud, the neighbor's cat who pops in for a visit, the blooms of the forsythia her mother planted - are all cause enough for simple and profound joy. There are fresh beauties all around, if you care to look. Ruth, who rarely leaves her home and lives almost completely in three rooms, has taught me to see the expansiveness of what is before me, even when, or perhaps especially when, it can seem so small, so limited. I cherish my dear friend: all the cups of tea we've shared, all the books we've read together, all the times we've just sat watching sparrows pick seed from the feeder, each moment unfolding simply, beautifully before us.

Friends enjoying one another

Skiing!

Than and Kara and I took the boys for a ski yesterday - well, we skied and the boys rode along, Seth snoozing and Corin enjoying the sleigh ride. "The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh through the white and drifting snow. Oh, over the river and through the woods... " In this case I was the horse attached to the buggy. But what a beautiful afternoon it was. It snowed while we were skiing and the trees kept sloughing great heaps from their boughs. Even though I was huffing it up hill and down, it felt great to be out amongst the trees, alongside the creek, in the twisting snow.

Doubling as a Pack Horse

Kara on skis

Than and Kara: Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Afternoon

Happy Birthday Seth

On Saturday, we wound down our holiday season by celebrating Seth's third birthday. Seth's birthday arrives right when I am ready to be done with festivities, so the poor guy gets a bit of a short shrift. However, we did manage to make some birthday cupcakes, light some candles and throw together a bit of a party. It all turned out and he was pleased to finally be three, an age to which he has been aspiring since Corin had his birthday in September.

After two weeks of vacation, festivities, Christmas, New Years, birthday, sledding, and snow, I awoke this morning with one thought in my mind: routine! Monday morning, I salute you. Peanut butter and jelly packed in a dinosaur lunch sack, I salute you. Hats and coats and mittens and snowpants, I salute you. School drop-off, I salute you. I am always glad to see the holidays come and always glad to watch them go. I love feeling my days and weeks restored to their normal course, like a river regaining its banks. And so, not without gratitude for the past few weeks of holiday-time, I was pleased to take my children each to their respective schools this morning, and come home for a few hours of work. For everything, there is a season.

On another note, I received a bird book for Christmas that is filled with recorded bird calls. Seth loves the call of the Willow Ptarmigan and won't let us turn the page or play any other call. Over dinner this evening, we found ourselves trying to imitate the call with varying degrees of success. Tim was the unqualified winner, though Seth also does a creditable job. I highly recommend that you listen to the sound of the willow ptarmigan at this link: http://www.birds.cornell.edu/AllAboutBirds/audio/Willow_Ptarmigan.html

If you listen to the link, you'll have some idea of what our dinner table sounded like this evening. You are welcome to join us for dinner any evening, price of admission: one Willow Ptarmigan imitation.

Happy New Year to each of you.