Montana 2023

It’s been over a month since I’ve been back from my annual road trip to Montana.  Too amazing and too hard to sort through and organize all my pictures.  Besides which, readers of this site will know how sentimental I am and much of it was just too poignant until I was a few weeks out. 

My friendly maintenance men came to my place and loaded up the little red boats before I headed out.

Google maps suggested two routes.  I took the northern route. I sometimes come home the other way just for variety.

Over-nighted in Coeur d’Alene and arrived in Pray and the big sky.

There’s a reason Montana is called Big Sky.  One example presented itself shortly after we arrived.

Dolly made herself at home before I even got my bags unpacked.

After a good night, I had my morning coffee in the garden while Boo weeded, harvested, and planted.

Baby plants waiting in the greenhouse

Next, we tried out the little boats on Dailey Lake. 

You will observe more big sky.

 Next, we put in on Yellowstone and more big sky.  I tend to repeat myself sometimes but, just to remind you, the Yellowstone is the longest wild river in the country.

Boo and Gypsy

Next day, back in the garden.

Boo’s beautiful blue flax

And no.  The kitties and Dolly were not in the garden at the same time. Here is Jemima with Eleanor, the new Elderberry bush we bought.

After several perfect outdoor days, I got the cold, rainy day I had been hoping for, with a fire in the stove.

Which led to some cooking and eating. Here is the rhubarb, ready to be made into jelly.

Delicious salad with just-picked lettuces

We picked up a cake at our favorite bakery in Livingston to celebrate our 2023 birthdays.

We didn’t always eat at home. While in Livingston getting the cake, we had a Sunday lunch at our favorite Chinese.   We have a lot of favorite places in Livingston, but we couldn’t stuff in a cheeseburger from Mark’s on that day.

This is my favorite BBQ place in Emigrant.

It’s Gypsy’s favorite too.  The cook came around and asked if she could have a treat. Yes!  It was a big hunk of meat. No sauce.

Got a new cap in Emigrant too.  At the general store.  I swear, you can get anything in that tiny place. 

 Of course, we made a quick trip into Yellowstone even though Boo made sure I pretty much saw it all on my first trip a few years ago.  

Got to see some newborn elk babies.

I zoomed in on this shot.  I hate it when people get too close and disrespect the animals who live there. 

I did a mini-hike through the terraces.  

Lots of tourists even though everything in Mammoth is still pretty much closed up from the flood a year ago.  The plumbing in the lodge and all the campgrounds is still being repaired.

On the way home, we stopped to eat in Gardiner at a spot overhanging the river,

We noticed that the prices were about twice what they were when we ate there in the past.

Still pretty delicious, though.

Got to see the sun rise on the Solstice on my last day.  

Saying goodbye is sometimes is just too hard, so I stayed in bed until Boo left for work about 6.a.m. 

I did say goodbye to my beautiful Montana grand-dogs though, and, yes, I shed a few tears. Many years ago, Meg told me never to say goodbye to dogs.  They don’t get it and it makes you cry. Very true.

Stopped in Livingston to gas up and got yet another cap.

You have to anticipate there there might be problems when  you head out for a 2000 mile road trip in a 10-year-old Subaru, but what happened has nothing to do with my faithful car.

On the way, s big piece of gravel hit the windshield on the passenger side.  Had to get that fixed when I got home.  

And, as I left Montana and entered Idaho,  I knew better, but I was in the far left lane when I saw the small sign:  “All water vessels must be inspected for invasive species.”  A couple of miles on, I saw those blue lights flashing in my rear-view mirror. I pulled over to be quizzed by a very handsome, 12-year-old state trooper  (I have always been a sucker for a man in a uniform, which says a lot about my whole life, but that is a story for another day.)   I offered the lame excuse that I would not be putting-in in Idaho. He led me all the way back to the check station where the inspector pretty much waved me through.  

Early the next morning, after again spending the night in Coeur’d’Alene, and passing into Washington, I had learned my lesson, and stopped when I saw the sign.  Since I had lots of time and so did the young fish and wildlife woman, I asked her all kinds of questions.  I think it made her day .  She was a very good educator. Here is her visual display of zebra mussels.

Since I now know about all the problems these suckers can cause, I get it.  We do not have them in the Northwest and we don’t want them.

After that it was pretty much jiggity jig after another amazing time on the road.

Next day, I added a stone from the Yellowstone to my cairn. 

4th

The 4th of July is not what most people think it is.  Nevermind.  Just wear red, white, and blue and celebrate.  I think a couple of you paddled with me one 4th of July many years ago, taking out at Independence, Oregon, where they celebrate everything “Independence.”  

I intend to celebrate with these one day very soon.  Love those Walla Wallas!
357523927_10159333150846787_1450536725397977775_n.jpeg


Not today,  however. It’s going to be too crowded at Burgerville with a parade through Monmouth.  

Speaking of Walla Wallas, here is my garden buddy’s crop.  I’m sure to receive one or two pretty soon:



Today I will have “Southern Seafood Boil,” whatever that is, down in the dining room with Barb.  Billed as a “celebratory meal.  Then later, the ice cream truck is driving through.
ice cream truck-FUiAP7RtTf-1688155392749.jpg

Do all ice cream trucks play “Turkey in the Straw”? Asking for a friend.

Here is Barb’s new device, a 90th birthday gift from her kids who are taking her up near Mt. Hood to celebrate this week. This is supposed to be just the thing for trail walking.
IMG_1074.jpeg

Looks like it’s pretty handy for walking from Barb’s place to the community garden too.  It gives new meaning to the word “independence.”

In closing, let me add my all-time favorite patriotic picture.  “This land was made for you and me!”

4th

The 4th of July is not what most people think it is.  Nevermind.  Just wear red, white, and blue and celebrate.  

I think a couple of you paddled with me one 4th of July many years ago, taking out at Independence, Oregon, where they celebrate everything “Independence.”  

I intend to celebrate with these one day very soon.  Love those Walla Wallas!
357523927_10159333150846787_1450536725397977775_n.jpeg
Not today,  however. It’s going to be too crowded at Burgerville with a parade through Monmouth.  

Speaking of Walla Wallas, here is my garden buddy’s crop.  I’m sure to receive one or two pretty soon:
IMG_1075.jpeg

Today I will have “Southern Seafood Boil,” whatever that is, down in the dining room with Barb.  Billed as a “celebratory meal.  Then later, the ice cream truck is driving through.
ice cream truck-FUiAP7RtTf-1688155392749.jpg

Do all ice cream trucks play “Turkey in the Straw”? Asking for a friend.

Here is Barb’s new device, a 90th birthday gift from her kids who are taking her up near Mt. Hood to celebrate this week. This is supposed to be just the thing for trail walking.
IMG_1074.jpeg

Looks like it’s pretty handy for walking from Barb’s place to the community garden too where I spotted it very early this morning.  It gives new meaning to the word “independence.”

And, in closing, here is my all-time favorite patriotic picture. “This land was made for you and me!”

And the Gospel today . . .

Image

This illustration was the frontispiece for today’s Order of Service (often referred to as “the bulletin”) this morning at St. Paul’s. I remember when some generous parishoners gave this exciting piece to St. Paul’s. It was hung in the narthex. A parent said it terrified her child, so it was moved. I think that parent missed a powerful teachable moment. Children get metaphors and often are not as literal thinkers as adults are.


A Jury of One’s Peers

It’s unlikely in the unlikely event that I should be tried for a crime, that a jury of my peers would be seated. Old, white, middle class women? I think not.

First of all, in this state if you are my age you are excused from serving on a jury. I think that’s a huge mistake. Here we are: experienced women, wise, learned, retired, former nurses, teachers, secretaries, having raised many children, available and willing.

Originally, the “founding fathers” envisioned old, white, wealthy men making up juries. Today, that describes Donald Trump’s peers.

The judge set to try his case was appointed to the bench by him.

And in Dade county, who will make up the jury pool? I am thinking more of a sampling of that population rather rich, white men. I hope so.

Trump’s attorney Alina Habba, who is not part of the team representing him in the classified documents case, told Fox News on Sunday that Trump would not plan to seek a plea deal — “especially when he’s not done anything wrong,” she added. “He would never admit guilt.”

People who cannot see that they ever made a mistake, small or great, terrify me. There are always extenuating circumstances, rules that make no sense so they need not be honored.

“Honor” is a meaningful word here. Every screws up. Owning up is the honorable thing. Saying sorry is the automatic response for most of us.

When a boy grows up never having had his errors pointed out to him by loving parents, he becomes a narcissist. A colleague who is a narcissist is damn annoying. When it’s the most powerful man in the world, it is literally earth-shaking.