Cellphone Number Migration

In the long run and, apparently, in the short run, cellphone numbers migrate from phone to phone and from person to person.

A jarring example of this occurred some three or four months after my wife passed in 2011.  While staring at my cellphone late one afternoon, I thought about how I sometimes called my wife at midday just to chat a little.

What would happen, I wondered, if I called her number now that she had been gone for all these months?

I dialed my late wife’s cell number.  After a few rings, a woman answered.  Aghast, I immediately ended the call and pushed the phone away from me.  I spent the next several minutes wishing I had not tried calling.

Now, some eleven years later, I have another strange cellphone number experience to share.

We recently got Desiree a “Montana” (406 area code) cellphone.  Almost as soon as we commissioned the phone, she began receiving calls and messages from our area code.  In addition to providing the phone number from which the calls and text messages originated, the name of the person attached to the number appeared on Desiree’s phone.

“I know that name,” I told Desiree when she showed me information for one of the callers.  “If that’s who I think it is, I sold my grandparent’s house to her.”

Following a third (unanswered) call from the person in question, I texted from Desiree’s phone to tell her the phone number belonged to a new party.  When she immediately responded with an apology, I sent a message back to see if I might confirm who she was.

Within a few minutes, the woman and I found ourselves talking on the phone.  She and her husband did purchase the house from me.  Her husband, now deceased, had called me about the time I started building my new home on the lake and asked me if I wanted the fancy front door from my grandmother’s house.  He had saved it after replacing it with a new, more energy-efficient door.

I happily collected the door.  Furthermore, I planned the layout of my house around it.  The door is now repurposed as the entry to the den from my kitchen.   I mentioned the door and texted a photograph of it as I chatted with the woman on the other end of Desiree’s phone.     

Desiree’s phone number apparently (and not all that long ago) belonged to a gentleman from Townsend, Montana.

Posted is a photograph of the door from my grandparent’s house.

The Pacific Street Door

—Mitchell Hegman  

The Breakfast Club

The immediate area around my home (something you might loosely define as a yard) is primarily populated with native species common to the prairie and low hills in which I reside.  I have also nurtured a few plants and trees from outside this microclimate.  Some of these more exotic inhabitants require hand-watering on occasion.  More importantly, the local mule deer find them delicious.

Among the plants and trees favored by the deer you will find: two Mayday trees, a linden tree, two chokecherry bushes, a crabapple, and a few oddball flowers.

From May all the way through summer, the mule deer are regular visitors to my yard.  Each May, just prior to the birth of their next generation, they form something of a breakfast club.  They arrive as a mob—bucks, does, and yearlings—and browse through the edible offerings.

Posted today are images of the breakfast club.

The Breakfast Club

Looking Over the Menu

Eating the Mayday Tree

—Mitchell Hegman  

Weird Awakening

I wake from dream in which my buddy and I are running down a long grassy hill while wielding double-headed axes.  We are on our way to meeting our best girls.

—Mitchell Hegman  

Calypso Bulbosa (Fairy Slipper)

Calypso bulbosa, more commonly called fairy slipper, is a diminutive orchid found on the forest floors in Western Montana in early spring.  The flowers are the size of the end of your pinky and rise no more than a few inches above the forest duff from which they have emerged.

Fairy slippers are study in living spare.  The plant, a perennial, produces but a single leaf, and does so in the autumn, generally around September.  This leaf survives through winter, tolerating deep snow in the northern parts of its range. With the arrival of spring, the orchid plant uprights its showy flowers.  At the same time the single leaf of the plant begins to fade away.  In the end, the orchid is leafless for most of the summer.

To survive with such a spare footprint, the fairy slipper is a parasite.  They thrive by exploiting a fungus in the soil that shares nutrients taken from the roots of trees.  If you know much about Indian paintbrush, this is a familiar story.  They are a parasite of similar fashion.  This means, among other things, neither plant can be successfully transplanted.

Finally, the flower of the fairy slipper orchid possesses no nectar.  This renders the flower useless to pollinators.  The orchid must attract pollinators by deception.  The scent and shape of the flower mimics those that do have nectar, which lures in soon-to-be-frustrated bumble bees.

Today, I share my annual photograph of fairy slippers from alongside my cabin in the woods.

Fairy Slipper Flowers

—Mitchell Hegman  

Christmas in May

I know a few folks for whom Christmas is a yearlong concern.  My friends Linda Mook Scheid and Joe Murgel immediately pop to mind on this.  I am pretty sure both of them could tell how many days are remaining until Christmas on most any given day.

They are definitely not alone in living within the spirit of Christmas.

When Desiree and I arrived home from our trip to Eastern Montana a bit after 7:00 Wednesday evening, I noticed a shipping box on the landing outside the front door.  After unloading our traveling goodies from the car, I retrieved the package from the front door.  “I’m not sure what this is,” I told Desiree, “I thought everything I recently ordered came in.” 

The package, I soon discovered, contained a box within the shipping box.  Inside the second box, I found a ceramic Christmas tree.

One of the papers accompanying tree the offered a message: “Welcome to Montana Desiree!”  The paperwork also indicated that my friend from grade school on, Sandi, sent the gift to Desiree.

I must admit, Christmas on May, works in this instance.  Both Desiree and I beamed our best smiles after opening the gift.

Thank you, Sandi Coyle Benson!

And—oh yes—Merry Christmas!

Christmas in May

—Mitchell Hegman  

Drive-by Shooting with a Camera

I am teaching Desiree the fine art of what I call “drive-by shooting” with a camera.  In this case we are using smarter-than-me-phones for our cameras.

Two drive-by shooting types can be practiced.

In one drive-by type, you simply snap a photograph through the window of the car as you zip along the highway.  Sometimes, you may roll down the window to make certain glare from the glass doesn’t foul the image.  My brother-in-law, Terry, engaged in a version of this where he shoved his phone out into the wind through an open window and promptly dropped the phone onto the highway.

Neither my brother-in-law nor I recommend this method while still rolling along.

The other type of drive-by shooting calls for stopping the car for a moment so you can hang the phone out the window and frame a quick shot.

Desiree engaged in drive-by shootings of the scenery on our drive home from Colstrip.  She has become especially fond of capturing images of Montana’s snow-capped mountains ranges.

I am posting two of her drive-by images of the Crazy Mountains. 

—Mitchell Hegman  

A Note on Teaching Electrical Code

When reciting a particularly difficult section of electrical code, concluding with the phrase “and blah, blah, blah” is acceptable.

—Mitchell Hegman  

The Other Side

Desiree and I are in Colstrip, in the eastern half of Montana.  I am teaching for two days at the power plant here.

I often call Eastern Montana the “other half” of the state.  This is by no mean derogatory on my part.  I enjoy Eastern Montana.  The sky is bigger.  Way bigger.  And this time of year, the tended fields and the open plains are plenty green.   

The drive to reach Colstrip took something near 5½ hours.  That time included a few stops to gawk around.  At one point, we also diverted onto a country road and climbed up a hill to assess the “Big Open.”

Posted are a few photographs from the drive across Montana.

Deep Creek Canyon

Sun Coulee Ranch

Open Road

From Here You Can See Forever

—Mitchell Hegman  

The Treasure State (At Work)

It’s no accident Montana carries the nickname the “Treasure State.”  In addition to precious metals, Montana is the only state in the U.S. with viable sapphire mines.  My house is not only surrounded by some of those sapphire mines, it sits on a deposit of sapphires.

The largest sapphire I have ever found, I pulled from a pile of rocks and gravel scooped out of the hillside to accommodate my home’s foundation.  Following a heavy rain, the glinting gemstone caught my eye as I strode near the pile to fetch a board while framing my house.

Philipsburg, Montana, is also famous for sapphires.  For several months now, two bags of sapphire gravel purchased from a shop in Philipsburg have been collecting dust in my garage.

“We need to look for some sapphires,” I informed Desiree.  “I have a couple bags of good dirt to go through.  You can’t be here in sapphire country and not find a sapphire.  Let’s set up shop in the sunroom and see what we can find.”

After spreading a waterproof cover on the floor, I fetched the bags from the garage.  Desiree and I soon processed through the gravel and fines.  Within a few seconds of washing down the first batch, she plucked out her first sapphire.

Instantly hooked.

After we finished gleaning through the gravel—finding over a dozen sapphires—I asked Desiree if she enjoyed the process.  “Yes,” she said.  “I want big sapphires.”

Welcome to the club.

 

A Bag of Sapphire Gravel

Findings

Our Sapphire Haul

—Mitchell Hegman

The Ballad of Lefty Brown

Maiah Wynne is a young songwriter and musician from Missoula, Montana.  I first heard her music while watching The Ballad of Lefty Brown, a movie filmed here in Montana.  The film also stars Bill Pullman, an actor who has for many years co-owned (with his brother) a working ranch here in Montana.

After watching the movie, I enjoyed the title song so much I downloaded it to my collection.  I have since downloaded several more songs by Maiah Wynne.

Here is The Ballad of Lefty Brown. 

—Mitchell Hegman

Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FlR-2hTB1h0

From Manila to Sculpture in the Wild

Amazingly, Desiree knew about Sculpture in the Wild while still in Manila.  She chanced upon some photographs of the sculptures and the park on the Montanica! Facebook page.   She later asked me if I knew anything about the park.

“I sure do,” I told her.  The park is less than ten miles down the road from my cabin.”

Blackfoot Pathways: Sculpture in the Wild International Sculpture Park celebrates the environmental and industrial heritage of the Blackfoot Valley.  On a warm and sunny afternoon during our second trip to my cabin, Desiree and I walked through the sculpture park.

Although I have trekked through the park many times, I never tire of walking the paths and seeing the sculptures emerge from the surrounding forest.

Desiree loved the park.

I am sharing a few photographs of Desiree and her favorite sculptures.

    

Picture Frame (by Jaakko Permu)

A Place is a Place (by Stuart Ian Frost)

Tree Circus (by Patrick Dougherty)

Ponderosa Whirlpool (by Chris Drury)

Clearing (by Alison Stigora)

Me with Desiree  

—Mitchell Hegman

Bullsnake Rescue

The largest snake found in Montana is the bullsnake (sometimes referred to as a gophersnake).  Bullsnakes commonly range between three and five feet in length.  Many people consider them beneficial because they subsist largely by hunting and eating rodents.

My neighbor, Kevin, and I are protective of our local bullsnake population.  For several years we made certain a five- or six-foot snake living along our lakeshore remained unmolested by anyone visiting us.

The other day, on a drive to town, I found a rather beefy-looking four-foot bullsnake stretched out on the road, sunning.  The snake did not move when I swerved around him and stopped.  I immediately realized the next car might unwittingly or purposely run over him.

When I trotted back to shoo the snake of the road, the snake coiled up and hissed, sounding somewhat like a rattler, a common defense mechanism for bullsnakes.

The snake displayed zero interest in leaving the road and struck in my direction a couple times.  After a lot of space dancing and poking around the snake on my part, I failed to inspire any movement.

I next went hunting for a long stick to use for nudging the snake off the road.  Eventually, I pried a dead branch from a nearby flourish of sagebrush.  Using the branch, I shoveled the snake off the road and nudged it partway down an embankment.

I am hoping the snake will stay clear of the road for the rest of the season.

The Bullsnake Standing its Ground the Road

On the Embankment After Release

—Mitchell Hegman

Suds

Something about my upright clothes washer caught my eye.  Too much white, I thought when I glanced though the washer’s glass door.

A few minutes earlier, Desiree had tossed a pair of pair of padded covers for our outdoor deck chairs into the machine.  To confirm what I suspected I was seeing, I fished my smarter-than-me-phone from my pocket, tapped the flashlight icon, and swept a beam of light into the washer.

The washer was overfilled with a churning ball of fine white foam.

“Desiree,” I called out, “what kind of soap did you use in the washer?”

She had originally scrubbed the covers outside on the deck using a hose and various cleaning agents. 

Desiree soon appeared beside me. “Did you use dishwashing soap in the clothes washer?” I asked.   I trained my flashlight on the spinning mass of suds inside the machine one more time.

Her eyes widened.   “I was using dishwashing soap outside because laundry soap wasn’t making suds,” she admitted.

I laughed.   “Well, it makes too many suds in the washer.  I made the same mistake once.”

Many years ago, while living my bachelor life, I tried dishwashing soap in the clothes washer.   At the time, my roomy and I were out of laundry soap and I subscribed to the theory a lot of dish soap would be required to wash a big batch of clothes.

When I went to pull my clothes from the washer after a half-hour or so, I found suds piled on top of and all around the machine.  Not a few suds.  A lot of suds.

Thinking about my own misadventure with dishwashing soap, I hugged Desiree.  “We have all been there, dear,” I assured her.  “At least it’s a clean mistake.” 

   

Suds Remaining After the Full Wash and Spin Cycle

—Mitchell Hegman

A Grizzly Bear Up Close

In the early morning hours of October 17, 2007, a pick-up struck a grizzly bear on Highway 200 five miles west of Lincoln.  The bear died instantly.  The pickup truck fared little better.

The bear, a 12-year-old male, stood nearly eight feet tall and weighed 830 pounds.

That’s big.  Really big.

As it turned out, the bear ranked as the third-largest grizzly on record in Montana.  Following the death of the bear, five members of the United Taxidermist Association (four from Montana and one from Pennsylvania) donated their time and expertise to preserve the bear in a lifelike pose.  The bear is now on permanent display at the Lincoln Ranger District office.

“We need to stop and see something,” I informed Desiree as we approached the Lincoln Ranger District office while on a Sunday drive to see Sculpture in the Wild.  After pulling off Highway 200 and parking in front of the district office building, I led Desiree to the front entrance.  “I want you to see a grizzly in safe mode,” I told her.  “The office is closed today, but we can see the bear though the windows.”

Upon reaching the windows of the office, we cupped our hands against our face and pressed our faces against the glare and reflection on glass.  The bear immediately appeared less than five feet away. 

“That’s a pretty big bird,” I said.

“That’s the real bear?” Desiree asked.

“Yep.  And look at how long those claws are.”  I tapped on the window.

To help Desiree to take a few photographs through the glare on the glass, I unfurled my jacket and held it up against the window behind her smartphone.  Posted are a couple images Desiree captured.

—Mitchell Hegman

Source:  https://crownofthecontinent.net

An Official Guild Member

Desiree is, at long last, an official member of the Aluminum Beer Can Melting Guild.  On Saturday last, we managed to squeak in a quick gathering of the guild down at the lakeshore.   

The can-melting experience proved especially unique thanks to Tad collecting a few scraps of hardwood to use as fuel for the fire.  The hardwood produced a bed of especially bright and hot coals.

Given the intensity of the fire, Tad expressed concern about his beard catching on fire.  Employing his very best “safety third” measures, Tad stuffed his beard down inside the front of his shirt while working closely with the crucible.  Additionally, we used a particularly long willow stick (stuck in the mouth of the cans) as our mechanism for feeding cans into the crucible.

Desiree even dropped in one of the cans for herself.

Following the first aluminum pour (and given proper time for cooling) Desiree was presented with the first ingot poured.

Desiree Standing Alongside Other Guild Members

Tad Dropping a Can into the Crucible

Desiree Holding Her Aluminum Ingot

—Mitchell Hegman

A Warm Filipino/Montana Welcome

Desiree made connection with several Filipinos through Facebook here in Helena (before and after her arrival).  Over the weekend we were invited to a gathering of the local Filipino community in celebration of those having a birthday in May or June.

Somewhere near thirty people attended the Hawaiian-themed celebration, which was held at a private residence.

A feast of traditional food is at the center of most celebrations in the Philippines.  No different here.  More than a dozen dishes were offered, including pancit, one of my favorites.

The gathering proved loud and active.  Jokes (occasionally risqué) and constant chatter filled the room.  I quickly learned you can’t take too many pictures.

Thanks to all for providing Desiree with a warm and genuine Filipino/Montana welcome.

Desiree and Ana (June Birthdays)

Some of the Group Gathered on the Deck

Me With Des

—Mitchell Hegman

The Hairball Habit

My last cat, Splash, didn’t shed individual hairs.  He shed whole hairballs.  I regularly found hairballs here and there in my house.  He proved especially good at leaving hairballs on my sofa.  Over the years, I developed a habit of checking the sofa for shed furballs as soon as he jumped off.

The other night, Desiree popped up from the sofa to retrieve something from the kitchen.  Out of habit, I immediately glanced at where she had been sitting on the sofa to check for hairballs.

—Mitchell Hegman

Litter Comparison

Five Most Common Types of Litter Found on Ocean Beaches:

1. Cigarette Butts
2. Food Wrappers
3. Plastic Bottles
4. Plastic Bottle Caps
5. Plastic Grocery Bags

Five Most Common Items I Pick Up Along My Country Road:

1. Aluminum Beer Cans
2. Aluminum Beer Cans
3. Aluminum Beer Cans
4. Glass Beer Bottles
5. Aluminum Beer Cans

—Mitchell Hegman

York to Canyon Ferry

You can’t in or live near Helena, Montana, for more than twenty minutes and not make a trip to either the mountain community of York or Canyon Ferry Lake.  

Desiree and I made a loop to see both destinations.

As far as tiny mountain towns go, York is the real deal.  First, the town supports a bar.  In Montana, a bar is required if a place is trying to qualify as a town.  At the same time, York is an unincorporated community and tiny enough that a google search will not yield a population.  My guess is, no more than a few dozen people live in the cluster of homes near the bar.

The first thing we crossed paths with at York was wild turkey strutting alongside the road.

After a whirlwind tour of town and a drive to Vigilante Campground, we drove to Canyon Ferry by way of Jimtown Road.  Canyon Ferry is among the largest lakes in Montana—offering 76 miles of shoreline.  And it come with pleasant views of the Big Belt Mountains.  

After crossing the dam impounding the reservoir, we stopped to explore the castle-like stacks granite boulders near Cemetery Island.  A quick hike down a steep trail delivered us to huge monoliths towering over the water.  This is where I learned that Desiree squeals if confronted by heights.  Desiree held back a little as I clambered on a few boulders for better views.

I have posted a few select photographs from our travels.

Hiking at Two Camps Vista (Near Lakeside)

Cometary Island and the Big Belt Mountains

Desiree in a Cradle of Rocks

—Mitchell Hegman

Put to the Test

Desiree has been here for scarcely a week, but we already put our relationship to a test.  We did so by working together to install a custom shading system for my sunroom.  That’s some risky business right there.  A lot of sketchy character traits and raw emotions can surface when couples work together on such projects.    

I ordered the shading system last fall and have been sitting on the boxes containing the kit for several months. Both the salesman who took my order for the kit and the directions that came with the system components, insist the installation requires two people.   Desiree asked me to wait until she arrived so she could help me install the shades.

After tinkering with the installation over the course of several days, we completed the project yesterday.

The shades work great.  Better yet, I am impressed with Desiree.  She is skillful when working with hand tools.  She also displayed a great deal of foresight.  As we say in my hometown of East Helena, Montana, she was “thinking ahead.”

We enjoyed working together.  In the end, I will be her wingman anytime.

The Shading Kit in Boxes

Freshly Painted Tracks

Shades on the Tracks

Desiree Enjoying the Shade

—Mitchell Hegman