Our Fair City

Missoula is a happily situated town, the beauty of which seems to present itself when one gets a bit above it. Tim and I took the boys hiking up Mt. Sentinel last weekend. The trail leaves from the University and in a series of steep switchbacks climbs toward a huge concrete "M" - the city's most obvious landmark (could there be a more literal use of the term?) - fixed to the mountain's side.

Mount Sentinel is the far eastern boundary of the Missoula Valley and the town spreads out, ambling west, below the pitch of the mountain. The view from there is a good one and the boys had a great time picking out parts of their known world - the airport in the distance, the bridge over the train tracks near our house, the park they like to frequent, and the river winding the length of the valley. It is good somehow to see our world from above, to see how expansive the land and how nestled the town, to see the valley bend away in the far west where our vision cannot follow.

My boys on the M

Missoula's north hills are tinged yellow with arrowleaf balsamroot, a bright, silver-leafed member of the sunflower family. It grows in squat clumps all over the hills and is in full and glorious bloom on south facing slopes. Today I took a run and saw the lupine are soon to follow. At this time of year I can't keep away from the hills. I tell Tim I'm going to take a short run, I'll be back soon, but then I find myself veering toward the hills expectantly. Next week, when whole hillsides are full with deep blue spires of lupine blooming aside bright and broad arrowleaf balsamroot, when the meadowlarks are singing, and the rain is pulling across the far end of the valley in dark squalls, I might just have to sit down and give the rest of the day up for loss (or gain).

In other news - Tim invested a hefty sum in the Flowbee last year. You may remember the flowbee commercials from the mid 80s. This special "As seen on TV" item is a hair cutting system that requires the use of your vacuum. I was skeptical, but now after having more than made our money back by not spending on numerous children's haircuts (and several adult ones as well), I have converted to the Flowbee way of life. Thursday night was hair cutting night at this house - the boys all got fresh dos as did Than. So there's my product testimonial - if you have squirmy kids and a good vacuum, make the investment.

Flowbee

Happy Easter

A bright Easter here in our corner of the world:

Egg hunting:

A Corin moment:

A Seth moment:

Ice cream break:

Seth with his princess posse:

Spring break has just passed us by. On Wednesday, I was on the phone with my friend Ann watching a squall dump sleet on our doorstoop and making plans to meet up somewhere indoors when Ann said, through a sigh, "This is such a misnomer. It is neither Spring nor a break." All week long, we dodged intermittent snow storms and drizzle on our outdoor forays. And Seth spent the later half of the week dodging in and out of a fever and sniffles.

This weekend however, made up for it in spades with a glorious, long awaited, riot of sun. The whole town seemed to be trying to restock on vitamin D in one compact weekend as people with winter-pale legs donned shorts and hit the trails, nodding to each other with wide, giddy grins. We took a picnic to the park, broke out a yardful of sports equipment (soccer balls: 4, wiffle bats: 3, wiffle balls: 7, batting tee: 1, bikes: 4, frisbee: 1 bright orange cones: 6) and generally moved between sunny patches.

While the boys played tackle frisbee in the yard, I made good use of Saturday afternoon's sun by running up Waterworks, along the ridgeline, and down the other side to drop in on Kara for tea. Along the way, I saw mountain bluebirds flitting bright against the straw-colored roll of the land, and stopped to watch a red tail draft upward. Later, Kara and I walked up the side of the hill behind her house, and watched the evening creep across the valley. Somewhere near us, a western meadowlark trilled its lilting song, leaving me foolishly, dreamily, happy. More sun is forecasted for the week, as is school for the children. Two facts which tickle me with their promise of an embrightened return to routine.

Indoor Camping

Watching a Bald Eagle

Gray Day at the Creek


Seth bidding adieu to snowman remains