Montana Musings

I usually go visit my sister in March or April and again in October. It's about a four hour drive to her house, with two mountain passes to be traversed, so I avoid winter expeditions most years. We are both very busy with our gardens in the summer. So spring and fall are the best times for visiting.

Recently I made my customary spring trip over the passes to relax at her house. Sometimes I stop to take plenty of pictures along the way, but this time I only took one, along the Clark Fork River in western Montana:

As usual, we spent plenty of time drinking tea, knitting, reading, and doing jigsaw puzzles:

Sorry about the glare from the light fixture.

On my way home, I stopped at a scenic turnout just a few miles from where I once lived. Despite the snow on the mountains and the ice covering part of the pond, I could hear a meadowlark singing cheerily, a kildeer calling plaintively, and ducks on the pond were quacking conversationally. It was a perfect moment of nostalgia, bringing to mind the happy years I spent living nearby.



Along the Clark Fork River again, I stopped to snap another photo. On the left you can see a frozen "waterfall", where dripping water froze in place. With the light layer of fresh snow, the landscape looks more like a drawing than a photograph.



It's a good thing I wasn't planning on reading the informational plaques set up at this turnout: the recent thin coating of snow left them quite blank.

I decided to make a rest stop at Quinn's Hot Springs, not far from Paradise, Montana. To my surprise, the resort area on the side of the road nearer the river was full of emergency vehicles with lights flashing. Upon inquiry, I learned a train had derailed across the river about half an hour earlier. This is all I could see from where I was, but more photos can be seen
here. Ohio's train derailment in February involved hazardous materials, but the Montana derailment involved cases of beer. It seems appropriate, since Montana has a reputation for beer-drinking cowboys.

Mother loved Montana. She sang the state song to us starting when we were very small, and told us great stories about her growing-up years in that state. We were living in Washington then, but when my father retired, we moved back to her beloved Montana.

My sister and I were discussing this during my visit. We think what Mother really was seeking to recapture were the happy years she spent in Montana as a child, a teen, and a young wife and mother. I have studied her old photo albums, and I see a pretty young woman having all sorts of fun adventures with a group of good friends.

By the time I was old enough to pay attention, she was middle-aged, struggling with depression and menopause, dissatisfied with life on our isolated hobby farm, and fed up with the rainy weather in the Columbia River Gorge. Returning to Montana was her chance to relive at least some aspects of the more pleasant days of her younger years.

In Montana, we lived closer to town, so she didn't feel as isolated. The weather was not endlessly rainy. We had a great view in all directions from our house. She renewed old friendships and made new friends quickly. Her mother lived nearby, and her only sister was at least in the same state, although 'way over on the other side. Mother was much happier.

I, too, have good memories of fun times in Montana, and I reminisce each time I drive through that area. But I don't think I would want to live there again. The winters are too snowy, same as where I live now. The area has been overrun with people from California who want to escape the bizarre politics of that state, same as where I live now. No, if I move again, it needs to be to someplace warmer, and less crowded. Arizona and New Mexico are too warm, so maybe someplace in Colorado or Utah? I haven't figured that out yet. Realistically, I'm likely to stay right here as long as the grandchildren are in the area.