Here in Montana, winter never fully exits the state—instead, it simply retreats to a remote place and lingers there. Yesterday, lulled into thinking we were approaching spring down here in the valley—our snowdrifts melting away and bluebirds appearing regularly—Desiree and I headed over the mountains to reach the cabin for the first time this year.
We slammed into winter
at the base of Flesher Pass. By the time we summited the mountains, the road
was what people in other regions might consider impassable. Pressing on, we
eventually reached our cabin in a full-on winter notch off the Upper Blackfoot
Valley. For now, this is where winter resides.
At the cabin, we found
several inches of fresh, wet snow layered over almost two feet of thickly
crusted snow. In fact, to reach the cabin, Desiree and I were able to walk the
last hundred or so yards on winter’s hardened surface rather than slogging through
it.
Even so, the scenery
proved beautiful. More impressively, the buds on the highest tips of some
creekside pussy willows were starting to open. I am sharing two photographs
from the day.
—Mitchell Hegman
No comments:
Post a Comment