the morning dawns under cover, accompanied by a steady drumbeat of rain. a low ceiling, not quite grey and not quite white. throughout the day this curtain rises and falls, its feathered hem revealing glimpses of the mountains beyond. raindrops drip off leaves and eaves, steady; an invitation to meditation. while i long, on the one hand, for the warm summer sun, i find myself sinking into these rainy days. slowing down: physically, of course, but also slowing down the frettin

the neighbor mows his lawn and the air smells sweet; later, spicy as rain releases the balm of creekside cottonwoods. thunder rumbles low, a child’s laughter peals. we dance to silly songs and play outside with rocks and sticks. the sun feels hot on my arms for the first time this season. backlit illumination on the dog’s fur, making her glow. leaves begin to unfurl, willow and crabapple, currant and gooseberry. the apple tree still in bud, silvery grey and fuzzy. these are t

Easter morning clouds swirl low over the mountains, encircling peaks in wreathing mist, tumbling down to the valley floor. The air heavy with damp and chill, mingled with the green of emerging vegetation and the sweet of woodsmoke. Yesterday a storm front rolled through, moving slow and steady, gracing us with a symphony of thunder rumbling for half an hour straight. No interruptions, no break in the vibration. From there a downpour, torrents beating down on the metal roof, a

The winter was so hard and cold, Froze ten feet ’neath the ground. — Grateful Dead, “Dire Wolf” The winter: Cold and long, even by north country standards.  Hard. It started out mild and manageable. We skated through Thanksgiving and Christmas with tempered cold and scattered snow; even January exercised restraint. Then February arrived, and with it an unrelenting deep freeze. All through the month, every night subzero. Many days, too. March came, and the mercury dipped even

Walking along an ice rink road riddled with puddles, there is a whisper in the air; an undercurrent. Spring is not here yet in the north country, but there is a promise in the breeze. Hold on just a little longer, says the wind to the buds that have begun to swell on the trees. The morning sunlight has shifted, now angling gold through the bay window. I look up and a bald eagle soars overhead, low enough that i can hear each wingbeat. vanilla caramel cashew buckwheat clusters

This past weekend, we had a one-day break in the rain.  There is nothing quite like feeling the sun on your skin after so many grey sky days.  Muscles sequentially relax–muscles you didn’t even realize were tense in the first instance.  Couple that with the bouquet of floral essences that hangs in the air after a rain, and it’s a little slice of heaven.  I’m pretty sure everyone in town took full advantage: hiking, biking, gardening, barbequing.  I joined them–going for a hik

On Monday, May 25th, we celebrated Memorial Day, a day of remembrance, respect, and recognition for those who died while serving in the United States Armed Forces.  The holiday offers an opportunity for reflection, a chance to honor those who have given their lives so that we might live ours–so that we might do our best to lead our lives in an honest, genuine, and gracious manner. Throughout the holiday weekend, I was reminded time and again of how many honest and genuine peo

When I saw the forecast for this weekend–40s and rain–I sighed.  It’s spring and I want to be outside, hiking and gardening and soaking up sunshine!  But it’s May, one of our wettest months here in Montana, and we are in desperate need of the moisture after a winter nearly devoid of snow. Besides, when I awoke on Saturday morning and heard the patter against the window pane, I smiled and snuggled deeper under the covers.  I was reminded of the luxury of rainy days.  Everythin

A trail runs along the creek in my neighborhood, and the dogs and I walk with its flow several times each day.  One day this past week, as we made our way along the well-worn path, I was (as I often am) lost in thought … about who-knows-what … the monkey-mind swinging from thought-tree to thought-tree.  Our footsteps shuffled through the fine gravel.  All was still. Until in a moment, the hush broke with the resounding trumpeting of two sandhill cranes.  They floated in on si