Finding Home in Montana

“What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.” Crowfoot, Native American warrior and orator

Every which way

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09.17.14  This is how I’ve been feeling on these stunningly gorgeous Fall days.  I’m greedy to cram it all in–bike rides, kayaking, hikes, huckleberry picking, boat rides, reading on the dock, campfires at water’s edge.  I get so worn out, thinking about all the wonderful possibilities, that I need a nap, and let the day slip away into an ever-lasting sunset, which I also don’t want to miss.  I feel like the dog with a bone in his mouth, in Aesop’s Fables, who sees his reflection in the water, and spotting the bone, jumps off the bridge to get it, losing the actual bone in the process.  It’s easy to miss this season, in my attempt to hold on to it.

In my defense, we are flying about, every which way.  First to Berkeley, tomorrow, to celebrate Norah and Cormac’s birthdays.  Such a special occasion for us, having been present at their births, as we have been with the other four grandchildren.  And, two days after our return from California, we are off to meet Sarah and Nick in Ireland for a bicycle tour, finished off with two nights in a luxurious castle.  How lucky am I–going every which way.

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