Moonstruck in Montana

Conservatory Skulking

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Sun, 06 Mar 2016 00:50:00 +0000

I know, I know. I promised updates and posts about Montana and where we are living now. They are coming, definitely, but my other half had to go to Spokane for a seminar so, of course, I tagged along. Who could pass up the chance of some "city" comforts (i.e. Thai food, Indian food and Anthropologie) when you spend most of your days rattling around the mountains? Um, not me! So, tag along, I did.

Spokane is our nearest city and most Western Montanans make a pilgrimage to the urban oasis at least a couple of times a year. We've been making the trek for the last 20+ years so one does develop a certain knowledge-set based on the individual interests of the pilgrim. While we can both give pretty good recommendations for lodging and the aforementioned Thai and Indian food, we do diverge a bit from there. Erik? He can tell you the best routes to run and cycle, the location of each and every microbrewery within the city limits and what they are currently serving. Me? I can tell you the best coffee houses and bakeries, which restaurants are serving fresh, organic food and good wines, where Nordstrom and the aforementioned Anthropologie are located (and the nearest best parking places so you don't lose your mind before reaching them) and parks. I've got parks covered.

I love parks. I spend alot of time in parks since we usually travel with canine companions. But even without the requisite dog walks, I still love discovering a new park and will seek them out wherever we wander. I guess this really comes as no surprise since I've freely admitted to my gardening addiction and to my time as a volunteer at the botanical garden in North Carolina. Well, I'm here to tell you that Spokane has one of the most glorious parks I've ever had the pleasure to wander. Manito Park.

Every pilgrimage I make to Spokane, if I can squeeze a visit in, I head straight for Manito. It doesn't matter what season it is, it's worth it every single time. It's 90 acres of garden nirvana. There is a hilltop rose garden, a Japanese garden, a lilac garden, a formal garden, a perennial garden and a mirror pond. In the summer, there is an outdoor cafe and there are miles of trails winding throughout it all, taking you from formal garden to wooded park, up and over rock arches and down to the Japanese garden.

And if that's not enough, the neighborhoods surrounding the park are filled with architectural gems, from mansions to tiny craftsman bungalows. Really, you could spend the whole day and still not see it all. Around every corner is a hidden bench or sunny table and chairs begging you to sit down and take it all in. I just can't resist.

And you know what I really can't resist? Yep, a glass house. What is it about stepping in from out of a drab colored, winter cold world into a tropical, vibrantly colored world that is so magical? It honestly makes me gasp each and every time I push open that door and take my first breath of warm, humid air. I have spent my life seeking out conservatories and glass houses. And there are a couple that immediately pop to mind as being some of my favorites (Christchurch Botanic Garden in New Zealand and the Atlanta Botanical Garden in Georgia). But, Manito's Gaiser Conservatory? It might be small but it holds a special place in my heart.

So, no surprise, after dropping Erik off for a day of learning, I made a beeline to Manito and since it was cold and frosty, I went straight for the glass house. Now, I'm sure you know what's coming so, for all of you flower lovers and gardeners out there, prepare to be wowed. For all others, thank you so much for visiting and I will try to make my next post less flower focused (um, but no promises).

Without further ado, let's see what's waiting for you at Manito's Gaiser Conservatory!

Shrimp Plant?! What the...??!!

Oh, I could go on and on but I'll save a little mystery for those who might want to make their own pilgrimage. If you do decide to go, just FYI, the Mariana Stoltz BndB is quite a lovely spot to lay your head. So close to downtown yet in a walkable neighborhood close to Gonzaga University. And in the words of a friend who recommended it to me, "Phyllis puts on a mean breakfast." That and a wild turkey who has made the grounds her home, who could ask for anything more?

So the next time you find yourself in gritty, frenetic Spokane and decide you need a break, grab a coffee at Rockwood Bakery (a block from the park. How convenient!) and go discover Manito Park. You won't regret it and you just might pick up some brilliant garden ideas or a new plant if you time it right and hit the plant sale. Hmm, see you there and happy wandering!

PS: If you happen to be in Spokane during the Christmas season, I've heard they decorate the conservatory with lights and turn it into a winter wonderland. I've yet to catch it but it's on my bucket list, for sure!

Back in the Saddle Again

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Thu, 25 Feb 2016 00:30:00 +0000

Hello, it's been awhile, hasn't it? A few years since I've stepped into this space to pour my heart out and share my stories. And so much has happened! A return to scholastic life, a tumble on a trail run leading to a broken kneecap and surgery, a terrifying dance with cancer leading to more surgeries, the dreaded chemo and, finally, a decision to settle down for a moment and catch our breath, regroup and get our feet back under us. Maybe one of these days I'll have the courage to rehash some of the awful stuff that I slogged through but, right now, all I want to do is take a deep breath and begin moving forward again.

So, let's just start from here, with here being a little Montana town tucked in between snowy mountains on the banks of a big river. My other half has accepted a job which will keep us in one place for awhile. We've been doing the traveling road show for so long now that we both are wondering how we'll do with our feet planted in one place for more than one season but, fingers crossed! And since we are more than ready for a bit less excitement (read: stress) in our lives, we're making the decision to leap back into our old "normal" (read: baking in a full-size oven. Yippee!). First, sell the RV, then find a place to call home and, last, settle in. Not a bad place to settle, that's for sure.

I'm feeling a bit rusty at the ol' blogging thang so please bear with me while I work out the kinks and get back into my rhythm. I hope to reconnect with old friends and maybe make some new friends along the way. And, oh, I have lots to share; from exploring this corner of Montana to my trials and tribulations of mastering artisan bread with a sourdough starter (help!). Is anybody out there willing to ride along with me? If so and if you're ready, let's saddle up! We're off to new adventures!

End of the Road

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Wed, 28 Mar 2012 20:12:00 +0000

Well, it's finally here! My last week on the road. Well, for awhile anyways. I, mean, really who are we kidding here? I think I was born with a passport in one hand and a fully packed suitcase in the other. But I'm getting ready to hang up my gypsy shoes and head on home to Missoula and settle in to being a full-time student and house-dweller once again. The thought of rooms, and a real kitchen with a real oven and space to spread my kitchen tools out on, to roll out pastry, and a yard with grass for Daisy and Chloe to lay in, and my garden....oh, my garden! it all sounds like heaven to this road-weary soul.

I have been in a daze for the last month, dreaming and planning, plotting out new beds and mentally scanning the yard and thinking of new designs, new flowers and plants I want to try. I want to take that sunny corner in the back yard and move in that raised bed, expand it to maximize vegetable production. I need to get my mason bees from the gentleman on Fifth St so I can make sure my flowers are happy, that my apple and cherry trees can bear an abundance of fruit. I hear that my roses have taken a beating since I've been gone so I'm just itching, itching, to get my hands on them and bring them back to life. I wonder how my bulbs have fared. Will they be up, bobbing in the breeze, happy to see us? I had to laugh when I read Nici's recent blog about her garden day-dreaming. I could so relate.

So the girls and I are prepping and packing, handling those last minute details that need to be handled before we head off on our long road-trip north. I'm excited, jittery, ready to get going. I can not wait to leave this....

Clovis, NM otherwise known as Motorhome-Livin' Hell

for this....

Home Sweet Home

but I am really, really sad, anxious and distraught about leaving this....

The fam at San Simeon Pier

My sweet husband is going to be staying behind with the behemoth (aka motorhome) to finish off the contract he is working and then, fingers crossed, he'll be taking an assignment closer to home. The plan is for him to come home on weekends, or for me and the girls to head to him on my school breaks so we can continue on with the Grand Adventure....with one foot mired in reality.

And the ultimate goal? Well, the ultimate goal is for me to bust my ass, complete my degree in Speech Therapy so I can then work alongside Erik while traveling the country...and, dare I say, maybe the world? I have a dream of working in Europe or Australia for awhile and if I can manage to get my act together and buckle down to the task at hand, this degree might give us the opportunity to live and work abroad for awhile. Ooh, now there's some motivation for ya!

But until then, I'm simply looking forward to the adventure before us. Tonight I'm making magic one last time (get your minds out of the gutter, people, I'm talking pizza!) in my tiny little oven. And I'll sit and drink a lovely Barbera wine with my husband, one that we picked up on our weekend excursion to the California wine country, and I'll soak in this moment, breathe it in deep, knowing I'll not be living this life for awhile to come.

And then Friday, I hit the road, loaded to the gills with Kitchen Aids and Cuisinarts, dog toys and strappy sandals. Missoula, here I come! A bit stressed, a bit weary but a whole lot of optimistic.

Wow! What a ride!

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 23:59:00 +0000

"Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!" ~ Hunter S. Thompson

Bonfire at Hotel Albert

Those immortal words of Mr. Thompson have never rang so clearly in my mind as they do this December afternoon. I'm staring down at the end of 2011 and standing on tiptoes to try to get a clearer view of 2012 fast approaching. I can not believe my last post was in May. So much, SO MUCH, has happened since then!

Life these past seven months (7 months!) was full-throttle, sparkling and full of possibilities. Full of love and friends and reconnection. We worked hard, we played hard, we laughed....a lot. And, yet, it was also cloudy with confusion, struggle, sadness and loss.

Since my last post, I have been from here

The Pioneers

To here

Beach babies

From here

Kayaking in Glacier or, as we like to call it, heaven

To here

Charleston churchyard

We've enjoyed bonfires, a wedding of a childhood friend, a celebration of 40 years (my brother), and get-togethers with dear ones from close and far away.

Getting my caulk on at Hotel Albert

We've hiked, argued, learned how to install a metal roof on an old hotel (thus the arguing!), kayaked, rode moonlight bike rides through Yellowstone, explored historic southern cities and old, western ghost towns. We've traveled and explored Montana, South Carolina, California, Idaho, Washington and Oregon. And, I started back to school with the vision of a bachelor's degree in my sights.

Ghostly Bannack

And, we've cried. We lost one of our four-legged family members this fall. Riley. His spirit was willing but his body gave out so...we learned a serious lesson in saying goodbye. And...of carrying someone in your heart.

Our Riley. We miss him.

And now we find ourselves at the end of 2011. I'm sitting here in the sunshine of California, soaking it up as our next move is looming ever closer. Nina Simone is singing Sinnerman. She sings of prayers, "Don't you see me down here praying?" I'm not a much of a pray-er, not even sure if my prayers will be heard but.... today I pray. I pray that 2012 is as chock full of adventure, love, family and friends as 2011 ever was. I pray I make it through my degree quest and I can come out the other side proud of what I've accomplished. I pray that Riley, my honeybun boy, finally catches that rabbit he was chasing all his life and I pray he's sitting in a little patch of sunshine of his own. I pray that the world can find a respite from the weariness and embrace a bit of peace. And I pray for you, for all of us. I pray that this New Year is full of many wonderful things....with maybe just a bit of magic sprinkled in.

May you have a good ride in 2012 and a very blessed and Happy New Year!

Making Pastry

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Wed, 04 May 2011 22:34:00 +0000

For the past four weeks, every Wednesday I kiss the dogs goodbye, throw my overnight bag in the car and make the gorgeous two and a half hour drive from Dillon to Missoula. I love having that time to myself. I listen to our local NPR station, I daydream, I watch the drop-dead scenery roll by. Sometimes I turn off the radio, roll down the windows and just breathe in that cold, clear mountain air. Heaven. And it's about this time of day I've been rolling into Missoula heading for the fun, camaraderie and carb-loading of my new favorite past-time...the Posh Chocolat Pastry Class.

Sadly, this Wednesday's class was canceled so I figured I'd better get my behind in gear, go through the pictures and get that long over-due pastry class post done. Let's face it, I'd much rather be basking in the glory of rising pastry and whirling buttercream but, hey, looking at the pictures just reminds me of how much fun we're having and, oh!, the things we're learning.

We've gone through yeast breads, enriched breads, biscuits, muffins and cakes. I've learned how to make a Swiss Meringue Buttercream (something I've always been intimidated by) and how to fill a cream puff (always a good skill to have). My favorite lesson so far was making croissants and, especially, making Pain au Chocolat. Time consuming, yes, but so much fun. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it.

Another aspect I'm thoroughly enjoying? Working in a warm, well-organized kitchen and baking with other women who don't think it's crazy to wax poetic over rising bread dough. We swap tips, share stories and laugh together over awkward attempts at new techniques. I look forward to their smiling faces as much as I look forward to the goody bags we get to take home at the end of a successful evening of baking. Who knew baking with friends could be so satisfying? Instead of book clubs, why aren't baking clubs taking off? Hmm, maybe I'll be the first to get the trend going.

So, Natalie, Jo, Marietta, Maggie and Chef Ana, since I can't be with you all tonight, I've put up a web album of our Wednesday fun for you to peruse and I will happily drink a toast in your honor. Here's to new friends and unrestrained baking! Cheers!

Day 1 of Unrealistic Optimism

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 17:41:00 +0000

I started my "garden" yesterday. Nevermind that we got inches of snow two days earlier or that there was a Winter Storm Warning in effect for my region or that I live in a motorhome. Nope, it didn't deter me. That brilliant spring sunshine was glittering down, warming up my hair and hands and I looked over at the sad, listless cilantro that I'd been carting around and it was like a little bell sounded. DING! Time to garden!

I still find it surprising that even though I do live in a motorhome, that desire to get my hands in the dirt is as strong as ever. I'm like a baby sea turtle that will not be stopped from getting his flippers in the salty sea. I must garden even if it means I garden contained. Not my favorite but, hey, what's a travelin' gardener to do?

Not sure if I told you about this but, to add to my garden fever and in true optimistic gardening fashion, this year I took up dig this chick's challenge of the Virgin Harvest and decided to commit to attempt my vegetable garden in containers. Have you signed up? It's not too late!

So, my first challenge? (Well, besides the weather and the cramped, movable living quarters with lack of garden space). What should I use as containers? Hmmm, this was a tough one. Being mobile presents issues all on its own like limited storage space and the need for recyclable gardening containers. When the harvest is over, I just can't take them all with me and I wanted to find something I could use that would recycle easily at the end of the growing season, was portable enough to move around, was cheap (I really didn't want to sink a ton of money into pots or materials only to leave it all behind) and yet would give the mature plants enough depth of root to flourish. So, I racked my brain and came up with...milk cartons. What do you think? I know they won't work so well for lettuce and spinach but for the squash, tomatoes and herbs, I'm going to give them a try. By the way, any and all suggestions for alternative gardening containers from my fellow green gardeners out there would be greatly appreciated!

So, with the spring sunshine warming our skin, the dogs and I (well, they just laid there and supervised but, hey, I appreciated the moral support) hauled out the supplies and the lackluster herb plants and...ahem...dug right in.

A shell I picked up on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Beautiful and functional. I love it!

The day before, on my trip to Missoula for my pastry class (the post is coming, I promise!), I stopped at our lovely version of a Whole Foods market and came across some seed packets that I just could not say no to. Again, unrealistic optimism at its finest. Even in our home, growing seedlings was a shitload of work and why I think I can be successful in a drafty, always cold motorhome is beyond my comprehension. Be that as it may, for better or for worse, the seeds made the trip from the Good Food Store to the Dillon KOA and were promptly, and with great ceremony, cooing and encouragement, deposited in tin cans originally meant for the recycle bin but which have now, instead, been drafted into duty as seed starting containers. We'll see. If they even sprout, it will be a small miracle but...I have hope.

I am happy to report that the herbs looked immediately happier and more content in fresh soil with room to grow but I am sad to report that in a blatant attempt to quash my gardening optimism, no sooner did I have everyone planted, labeled and watered, Mother Nature let loose with an almighty thunderstorm and my freshly contained, baby-stage garden, the lazy dogs and I had to run for cover. Then we all watched dejectedly through the window as cold rain fell and the temperatures dropped. ....sigh...

But, that's ok. I'm still clinging to my unrealistic optimism.

What's For Dinner? Vegetarian Chili

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Wed, 20 Apr 2011 01:51:00 +0000

As a vegetarian, I get asked a lot, "Well, what do you eat?" No joke, people really do ask me that question. It's always amused me a bit but now I'm also being asked for recipes as more and more people have started looking at healthier meal options.

Look, I'm warning you right now that I am in no way a great cook. Baker, sure, I can hold my own but cooking? It's just not something I do for fun. You're going to find that most of my meal ideas are quick, don't have a ton of ingredients, and aren't too involved. With that being said, I thought I'd occasionally post a recipe or two for those who have asked (you know who you are) and tonight, it's one of my go-to meals, Vegetarian Chili. Simple, easy, hot and filling. Plus, it is one of those recipes that I love to call my One-Pot Wonders. Hope you enjoy!

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small onion, diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 or 1 whole jalapeno pepper, seeds removed, diced (optional and depending on how hot you want your chili. I usually go for the whole)
1/2 pasilla chile, seeds removed, diced (optional)
Coarse salt and ground pepper
2 zucchini, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise
2 carrots, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
2 cans (19 ounces each) black beans, rinsed and drained or 1 can of black beans and 1 can of kidney beans, rinsed and drained
1 can (28 ounces) organic diced or crushed tomatoes
1 cup of water
Avocado, sliced (optional)
Shredded cheddar cheese (optional)

Directions

1. In a 5-quart heavy soup pot, heat oil over medium-high. Add onion, garlic, jalapeno and pasilla chile; season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until they begin to soften, about 4 minutes.

2. Add zucchini, carrots, chili powder, and cumin. Cook, stirring occasionally, until carrots are crisp-tender, 6 to 8 minutes. Add beans, tomatoes and water. Simmer for 20 minutes until chili has thickened and ingredients have melded.

3. Ladle into bowls and top with sliced avocado and/or shredded cheddar cheese and serve with warm corn tortillas if you're not afraid of carbs (Erik does, I don't...sigh...)

Delish!

Cruising Home and Settling In

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Fri, 15 Apr 2011 20:21:00 +0000

We made it! Ahh, our feet are firmly and happily planted on Montana soil once again and we haven't stopped moving since we arrived. We've reconnected with friends and family, I've started my pastry class (more on that soon!), we went and checked out the old motel we bought (that's a whole post on its own) and Erik even raced in the Rocky Mountain Roubaix.

I'm still trying to unpack and settle us in our new location, Dillon, MT but here are a few photos of our roadtrip home and our first week back.

We went from this....

...to this. Well, hello, Dillon.


Our movable sporting good store

Downtown Durango. Finally, mountains and microbrews!

We went treasure hunting in Gallup, NM. I just couldn't resist these beauties.

What?! Green grass and no stickers? Riley thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

The new project, Hotel Albert.

Racing the Rocky Mountain Roubaix

Life is sweet thanks to my new friends at Posh Chocolat.

Everybody Challah! Loving my pastry class. Yes, mine's the round one in the middle.

Oh, those Pioneers! Looking forward to getting to know you better.

A view out my window

Sneaking off for a little fishing. This is our new backyard.

Evening fly-fishing. At least I'll know where to find him.

See you later, Clovis

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Fri, 01 Apr 2011 16:34:00 +0000

So, yea, it's been..um...fun to get to know you but I've really gotta go now. Oh, sure, yea, maybe someday we can do lunch....NOT!

My time in Clovis, NM. This about sums it up.

Can I Get a "Hell, Yea!"?

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 15:58:00 +0000

Chocolate Truffles of love

I know, I know, baking and chocolate, you know I love it, I obsess over it, I lay in bed at night dreaming up chocolate fantasy concoctions. Yada, yada, yada. You've heard it all before and I know I've gone on and on about the baking ban. But, folks, I'm about to take it to a whole new level...

I received an innocent email from our local artisan chocolate and pastry chef in Missoula (Posh Chocolat, check 'em out) announcing that she will be conducting a six week class in the art of all things holy...like chocolate-making AND french pastry AND yeast breads AND...wait for it, tortes and cakes. I passed out. I came to. I passed out. I came to. I passed out. I woke to find the dog licking my face and I jumped up, hit reply and screamed (in written form of course...well, to be honest, I might have screamed it out loud as well), "SIGN ME UP!!!" (Please, the ban had no chance. None, whatsoever. Don't judge me.)

And not knowing the level of crazy obsession that she's dealing with, she did. She signed me up. So starting April 6th not only will I be home (HALLELUJUAH!), I will be sashaying my way around and around a commercial kitchen with the loves of my life (sorry, Erik, but you should know this by now): butter, sugar, flour and, of course, chocolate.

Oh, sweet god, please tell me I'm not dreaming!

Beauty Shines Through

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 16:20:00 +0000

"The clouds collect above, drift by like marching armies on their way to war,

bringing storms and salvation.

Which, is yours to discover.

The tension builds, the winds begin their frantic dance,

increasing the pressure, the strength, the intensity until you want to escape.

But you're on an open plain, nowhere to run, no place to run to,

so the armies catch you,

open their ranks and swallow you in chaos, confusion, panic,

despair and desperation until they spit you out the back.

They leave you standing on an open plain in a newly quiet world.

Just you, alone, breathing hard

as a light breeze dances around you."

I've thought alot about beauty this week. In our dry and desolate location, I came upon a blooming cherry tree. Its absolute incongruity in a desert landscape stopped me in my tracks. I actually gasped at the beauty of it. That this little tree could, first of all, survive but then have the flat-out audacity to bloom took my breath away. In a world of brown, of harshness, of rusted-out junkers and blowing trash, beauty in its simplicity shines through. And after a soul-shaking, what the hell just happened time when you are swallowed by the despair of ever seeing the sun again, that little glimmer through the darkness shines bright and brings with it...hope.

I've watched the news of Japan along with the rest of the world and in the absolute devastation, one thing I've noticed is the beauty shining through. The beauty of a gracious people pulling together, the beauty of a life spared, of a reunion of loved ones thought lost and I know, like this little desert cherry tree, beauty survived.

I hope that in these dark days, in the chaos and confusion, when the world chews us up and spits us out, a little glimpse of green in a brown world will stand as a reminder that we can survive the winter, that this too shall pass and if we look to the beauty instead of the tragedy, we will find hope again.

May beauty shine through, bright and unwavering, for the people of Japan.

Want to help? So simple: Socks for Japan

3 Weeks and 2 Days Until Liberation

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 15:58:00 +0000

Sometimes you just want to go home. Now, don't get me wrong, I love this traveling lifestyle. I still enjoy the waking up in new places and that moment of, "Where the heck are we?" and soaking in the scents and smells and sights and, well, different-ness of a new location, the peculiarities that make it so NOT home. It's fun, exciting, always an adventure. But, so far, no matter where I am, no matter what I'm doing, after a few months, it always hits. That longing for familiar. The longing for those sights, sounds and smells that set your heart to singing. And then you know...it's time to go home.

I haven't made it a secret that this assignment has been a challenge for me which makes the desire to get the hell out of Dodge (or Clovis, as the case may be) that much more intense. In one of my melancholy moods, I happened to pick up an old journal and I read something I wrote that really just sums it up.

I remember the day so clearly. It was May of last year and we were on our assignment in Billings, MT. It was a Saturday and we had headed off into the mountains to soak up a gorgeous spring day. I was sitting in the sun on the bank of the Stillwater River while Erik chased fish and the dogs flopped on the grass beside me.

Erik and Riley flyfishing on the Stillwater River

May 8, 2010 - The leaves on the trees are bursting out, the birds are so active, the Swiftwater rushing by makes such a beautiful melody. What a gorgeous day! Mid-40's, sun is shining, snow on the ground around me but patches of spring grass warmed by the sun offers an inviting space for the dogs to stretch out on.

Oh, Montana, how I love you! Fickle though you may be, your beauty, your generosity makes the temper tantrums worthwhile. I am already feeling the loss of leaving you and moving on to our next stop even though I know adventure awaits. The gypsy life is a strange one. The thrill of waking up and wondering, "Where am I today?", the discovering of new places, new people never gets old.

Yet, I can't help looking back over my shoulder as I walk away at what I'm leaving behind. That sense of melancholy knowing you'll go on without me while I'm gone. Your snows will melt, your flowers will bloom and I'll be far away finding different flowers, different spaces but none to compare with those of my beautiful Montana.

Montana Wildflowers

So, there you have it. And in 3 weeks and 2 days, we're heading back to Montana for the summer. Ahhhhhh......(soul-deep sigh).

Yep, I love traveling, love moving on. But, you know what I love even better?

Going home.

When All Else Fails...Make Biscuits

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 23:15:00 +0000

Yesterday was one of those days. I know you know what I'm talking about. The kind of day that just struggles against your best efforts to smooth its ruffled edges. You try, you take deep breaths, you tell yourself this is just a lesson in patience. You go through your routine doing your best to jump the hurdles that come your way. When the dog you spent an hour brushing out so she would look presentable at her doctor's appointment walks over and lays right in the dusty, red dirt the moment you turn your back, what else can you do but mutter a curse word and sigh?

No problem, it's cool. You've got this. And when you climb into your little shower looking forward to washing away the red dirt and dog hair and the owner of the RV park decides to cut the water at the exact moment that you have whipped your hair into a frothy lather and are about to rinse...well, all I can say is those curse words do come in handy, don't they?

You get through it. You move forward. You get to the vet appointment early. And when the 15 minute vet appointment turns into an hour and a half allergy-inducing test of will for all involved, what else can you do but suck it up and smile? Moving on. You're now late and the dogs are on their last nerves. You're barely hanging on to the last thread of your sanity but you're doing it. You're not down yet. You fight the evening traffic to get across town in time to pick up the hubby.

And when you finally...finally... manage to get the hot, traumatized canines and the equally hot and traumatized hubby all home only to realize that somewhere in between the torture of the vet and the retrieval of the spousal unit, you were supposed to hit the market so you have something to cook for dinner...well, I suggest you do what I did. Just throw in the towel and make biscuits.

Buttermilk biscuits. Hot, fluffy goodness that solves all problems. Add a vege scramble and a glass of chilled white wine and all of a sudden those ruffled edges of a rough day are as smooth as one of Martha Stewart's tablecloths. I've been asked to start posting my recipes so here's my favorite buttermilk biscuit recipe (not sure where I picked it up but I've been using it for years). I hope it can ease some ruffled edges on a rough day for all of you too.

Heaven-sent Buttermilk Biscuits

4 c all-purpose flour

4 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1 1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp sugar

1 c (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into little pieces

2 c buttermilk

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. In a medium bowl, whisk together dry ingredients. Using a pastry knife, cut in butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

Add the buttermilk and stir until mixture just comes together. Don't overmix and don't worry that batter is sticky. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and use floured hands to pat the dough to a 1-inch thickness. No need to roll it out. I use a 2-5/8 biscuit cutter but any 2-1/2" glass or round cookie cutter would work as well.

Place biscuits on baking sheet and bake at 375 degrees for 18 to 20 minutes until they're lightly, golden brown. Cool on wire rack and...EAT UP. Delicious.

I Am An Athletic Supporter

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 15:46:00 +0000

And they're off! Austin Marathon Start. Go Erik, Go!

So, we just got back from Austin, TX (FABULOUS city, by the way) having traveled there this past weekend for the Austin Marathon. No, smart-asses, I didn't run it, my athletically-inclined husband did. Me? I just tagged along for the chance to experience a city I haven't seen before and get the hell out of Clovis for awhile. Oh, and to play my role as Athletic Supporter. Yea, there was that.

Taking my life in my hands to get this picture

Let me clarify this title. I'm going to start with what it is NOT. It is not "wake up at a leisurely hour, take a shower and feed yourself, then head downtown to grab a latte before the start of the event." It is not "pick a scenic and comfortable-for-the-temperature spot along the route, settle in and cheer as your designated athlete runs/cycles/kayaks/swims by". It is not "find a good spot at the finish line, get comfortable, gab with your friends or other cheerleaders near by and wait for your designated athlete to run/cycle/kayak/swim across the line". It is NOT "just cheerleader".

One of Erik's many sports.

Nope, being an Athletic Supporter is a whole different animal. What it IS is "being awakened before the crack of dawn by an over-anxious, amped-up person, frantically packing the car with sundry athletic bits and pieces, being rushed out the door without one or more of the following: breakfast, coffee, a shower and/or the chance to hit the bathroom, and a nervous adrenaline-fueled drive ending in an argument over the best place to park." It is "being pack mule, pit crew, shuttle van driver, first-aid station, race coordinator, transition set-up, food station, lost and found, and sport psychologist all at the same time". It is "being expected to be at the start to cheer and take pictures and still make it through crowds and closed streets to the transition area before the athlete to make sure all gear is set-up and waiting, then pick up all rapidly discarded items that are cast off as your designated athlete flies by, repeat (sometimes more than once), and make it to the finish line to once again cheer and take pictures". It is "lugging a 17 foot, 70 pound kayak half a mile as fast as your little legs can carry you and it, then somehow miraculously and with much swearing hoisting it onto the roof of a van, strapping it on and STILL managing to make it to the next leg in time" I'm still traumatized over that one, by the way. It is "being sports photographer while doing one or all of the above and STILL managing to stop and capture the requested "action" shots of your designated athlete and his competitors".

Transition at the Desert International Triathlon

My nemesis. The 17' kayak.

It is frustrating, stressful and sometimes painful. But it is also hugely satisfying. Take the Austin Marathon. Erik has trained so hard for it, through gale-force winds, negative degree temps, sun, rain, snow. He runs. He runs because, for him, it's more than just a way to get exercise, it's a crusade. He was bound and determined to beat a certain time. He knew the marathon course was going to be hilly and here in Clovis there's not an incline within 150 miles. It didn't deter him. He ran. Sometimes his running drove me crazy. Christmas Eve? Too bad, gotta get my miles in. Need help with the dogs? Too bad, gotta get my miles in. Still, most of the time, I admire his dedication to the cause, his drive, his athletic prowess. I don't quite get it, but I do admire it.

Austin Marathon bridge crossing. See? I made it.

But the morning of the marathon found me grumpy and chafing at the confines of my supporting role. Yes, he's worked so hard for this day but, damn it, all I really wanted to do was find a coffee house, grab a latte, and wander stress-free through the festive city, casually making my way to the finish line to cheer him on home. I just didn't want to be dragged kicking and screaming into the drama. Heck, I'm not running the race! Instead, I was rushed out the door at the crack of dawn, no coffee, no shower, no bathroom break, argued with over where to park the van, stressed out at having to rush to drop off his gear bag on 6th St and run to get to the start line at 16th. He's in running shorts and a tank top which weigh, hmm, a few ounces? Me? I've been outfitted with my marathon support gear: big camera to capture said "action" shots, bag containing chapstick, extra GU, wallet (that's 5 pounds, right there!), long lens for my camera, race map, pace card, keys to hotel and van, and I'm holding a water bottle and, at the moment, his gear bag. It's early, I'm tired and chilly and there are too many damn people looking at me and bumping into me. I'm worried that he hasn't had any time to warm up and my stress is fueled by his nervous orders to me. "Ok, so you're going to get pictures of me at the start, right? And then if you could get over to mile 8 to take pictures of me as I cross the bridge that would be great". (He has his own blog and all his athlete friends will be checking in to see the report. No pressure, though). "But just make sure you get back to the finish on time, ok?". Hrrmph, as if I ever let him down. I am now feeling quite resentful. I want a shower, I REALLY wanted to sleep in. I want a latte. But, frankly, it doesn't really matter what I want, now does it? I feel like bitch-slapping the next happy, endorphin-laden, lycra-encased freak that, in their pre-race haste to get to the starting line, bumps into me.

My thought exactly. At the Austin Finish line.

But then it happens like it happens every time I tell myself that THIS time I will NOT get sucked in. He smiles at me with that goofy, excited, hopeful, expectant expression on that damn face of his and says those magic words, "Kiss me and wish me luck". I see the nerves, I see the hope and I see the need to have me...grumpy, rumpled me, as his supporter. Shit, here I go again. So I kiss him, and I wish him luck and I watch anxiously as he jets off to conquer his demons with the sparkle of the lights of the State Capitol shining down and the pink hope of a new day glowing softly on the horizon. All that passion, all that drive, all that expectation....And I am resolved, once again, to slip into my supporting role and do my best not to let him down. Because, damn it, I AM an Athletic Supporter....and proud of it.


How can you say no to that face? At the start of the Austin Marathon.

Some Red Velvet Lovin'

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 17:36:00 +0000

Ahhh, Valentine's Day...a celebration of love replete with wine, chocolate and flowers. It's no secret that I look forward to it every year since it really is my "get of of jail free" card to indulge in all of the aforementioned vices with complete and utter abandon. And let's not forget, it also allows me to indulge in another of my not-so-secret addictions...baking high caloric, and very much forbidden if I EVER want to fit into my bikini, treats. Seriously, I would love to track down whichever marketing guru came up with this concept and give them a big, fat, wet kiss on the mouth. I couldn't have dreamed up a better scam myself.

And this year, in honor of having spent the last half of the year in, or straddling, the south (North Carolina and Texas respectively), I decided to treat my honey to a little southern style lovin'...that's right, folks, the oh-so-lovely and much revered, Red Velvet Cake...with a twist. Since I'm working with an oven the size of a postage stamp, I decided to switch it up and do Red Velvet, CUPCAKE-STYLE (insert drawl here).

Like the big hair and pageant makeup of Texas, there is something charmingly sweet yet shocking about this unnaturally red batter that rises into this moist, cocoa-flavored scarlet star. Topped with the luscious, creamy, tangy frosting and accessorized with raspberries and chocolate, I felt liked I'd given life to the newest Dallas debutante. You just couldn't help but stare. I decided to call it my Shock and Awe campaign. And the hubby really was shocked and awed after months of living through the much-dreaded and long-lived baking ban.

As I pulled out my ill-treated and dusty Kitchen-Aid, the euphoria of climbing back into the baking saddle was a heady and seducing sensation. Now this is what I call love, people. Me, my Kitchen-Aid and all those lovely ingredients lined up like little soldiers just begging to be sifted, whipped and coaxed into a mouth-watering, irresistible, edible work of art. Oh, baby, how I've missed you!

And, lest we not forget the absolute beauty and fulfilment of my Shock and Awe campaign, the look on Erik's face as he sank his teeth into the lovely goodness of my humble offering and the giddy, love-filled, cream cheese smile he gave me as he savored the bite made me all the more grateful for the greedy capitalist that invented this glorious day. So, I say to hell with pretending to be immune to all of the pink and red trappings and gaudy, heart-shaped symbolism associated with this infamous holiday. I plan to strap my love-gun on my hip and wriggle into my "I'm a Valentine's Day Whore" t-shirt (pink with red hearts all over it) and proudly proclaim for all to hear, "LET THEM EAT CAKE! RED CAKE WITH CHOCOLATE HEARTS ON IT!"

Wishing you all a Happy Valentines Day, whether you're a believer or not!

And, Erik, so glad you're mine and I love you.....

Poor Me Sucks It Up

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Sat, 12 Feb 2011 16:06:00 +0000

Angel of Santa Fe

I was sitting here with still frozen pipes and my "poor me" attitude firmly affixed, looking out at a cold and not-so-pretty view and longing for the end of this assignment so we could just move ON already. I'm tired of red dirt and dust that filters into every crevice, flat-as-a-pancake, sticker and cactus encrusted plains, the smell of cow manure and frigid, freeze-you-to-the-bone wind and I'm really sick of the name...Clovis. Really? With such poetic and intriguing names such as Ruidoso, Tucumcari, Santa Fe, Taos and the always fun, Albuquerque, surrounding you, the founding fathers of this little burg chose CLOVIS? Someone seriously needs a reality check.

I have actually surprised myself with the depth of my self-pity. Though some of our assignments haven't been in the best of locations, I've always enjoyed the experience and the thrill of exploring a brand new corner of my world. Not quite sure why this one has worked me over so badly but, as I listened to that voice in my head bitch and complain and go on and on about how miserable she is, I decided enough was enough and it was time to pull up my bootstraps and focus on the really amazing and beautiful spots we've discovered while cooling our heels in Clovis, NM.

So, without further ado, here is a glimpse into our world and an "Up yours!" to that whiny voice inside my head:

Santa Fe Overpass

Desert Landscape near Santa Fe

Camel Rock

Erik and Chloe stretching their legs in Palo Duro Canyon, TX

Palo Duro Canyon, TX

Pot-bellied stove in Lincoln, NM

Mission in Lincoln, NM

Defense turret in Lincoln, NM

Grandparents farmhouse, Circleback, TX

Last sunset of 2010

Deep Freeze

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 22:40:00 +0000

Frozen Window

It was minus 25 degrees this morning. And I live in a motorhome. I really feel it’s about time to rethink my life.

Really, if I wanted to live through temps like this, I could have gone home to Montana and at least had the pleasure of beautiful scenery, things to do and friends and family to shack up with.

To say I’m cold is an understatement. My poor dogs won’t even go outside voluntarily, their paws freezing within minutes. I’ve resorted to carrying a bath towel when we head outside so that when the doggie dance of trying to get frozen paws out of contact with frigid ground begins, I can rush over and offer a brief respite by throwing the towel on the ground and letting then stand on it like a barefoot child on a hot, sandy beach.

Chloe huddled in her blankets

Between the necessary but dreaded dog walks, my day consists of huddling under my down blanket, only surfacing to heat up tea or re-cover a shivering dog. I finally had to give up on my daily ritual of vacuuming up dog hair and dusting down surfaces as my space heater and microwave are running on overtime. Heck, maybe the extra hair will give us another layer of insulation. I can only hope.

I watch the winter storm warnings flash across the tv screen telling us to take shelter, cover skin and avoid staying outside for longer than 30 minutes at a time. I watch the forecasts with bated breath wondering when this deep freeze will come to an end…and wondering if I’m going to cave before it does and finally drag my frozen extremities and canine companions to the nearest hotel in hopes of finding a hot, hot shower and warm toes.

Ugly grey sweats, down booties and dog hair

For now, though, I’m hunkered down, encased in layers and layers of high-tech thermal sportswear topped by the ugliest grey sweat pants you will ever see with my feet covered by my down, campsite booties and strands of errant dog hair sprinkled about like sequins. And with all this down time on my hands, I decided to teach myself to knit. It’s not pretty but if I keep the down blanket pulled up over my head, my fingers stay warm enough to work my way through the stitches and the bright green yarn reminds me of spring. Oh man, I can’t wait until spring!

Doesn't that green remind you of spring?

Erik came home from work last night and said disgustedly, “You know, this time last year we were in Palm Springs.” Oh, lordy, I just wanted to cry. I remember Palm Springs and, even better, Ventura and the beach and warm sand and dolphins swimming and hot sunshine and…hold on, I’m getting myself worked up. But we’re not in Palm Springs. For better or worse, we picked Clovis, NM to winter in so here we sit, frozen inside our little ice-cube of a motorhome.

But, then I think, honestly, who am I to complain? Yes, this sucks. It really, REALLY sucks BUT we are so lucky that we have the option of choosing. I wonder how many people are stuck right where they are with no hope of choosing something different? How many people here in Clovis are shivering right along with us but, for them, this is it? In a month or two, we get to move on but this is their reality. Erik and I are so darn blessed that we have a choice. We can choose where we go and where we spend our time on earth. So, yes, next time we will probably choose Southern California beaches or desert over the New Mexican plains for winter. And maybe I’ll choose the hotel over freezing my ass off tonight but, for now, I’m going to pour myself a glass of wine and pull the down blanket over my head and toast to the fact that we have choices and, like it or not, we chose this crazy, surprising, wonderful, lonely, frustrating, unbelievable gypsy life. So raise your glasses, friends, and let's drink to choices!

I choose this!

Christmas on the Farm

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Tue, 28 Dec 2010 18:07:00 +0000

Down on the farm in my Xtra Tufs

I love the holidays. Snowfall, Christmas lights, discovering the perfect gift for that special person, snuggling up, drinking hot chocolate and peppermint coffee, even Christmas carols. I love them. I love that this time of year is when we really focus on those who are important in our lives and I love sending Christmas cards and special wishes to those who are near and dear to my heart. Then there's that little thrill when I receive them in return. Those little notes of what the year has served up, the snapshots of smiling faces as reminders of life moving and growing and expanding. For a brief moment, I reconnect with those that I love. And then time swirls on, the holidays pass, winter turns to spring and we all get back to business dancing along the pathways we've chosen for our life.

We've been on the road two years now. Two years! It's so hard to believe but there you have it. Last Christmas, we got to spend it on the golden beaches and cozy setting of Ventura, CA. And it was lovely, really a wonderful place to spend that special time. But, I have to admit that one of the things that I really love about the holidays is that impromptu gathering of friends and family, cozied up, laughing, teasing and storytelling on a cold winter's night. It's been one of the hardest transitions to life on the road, that isolation you feel, the never really being part of the group. Most of the time I enjoy being the bystander and getting a glimpse into other people's realities but at the holidays I really yearn for that connection, that feeling of being part of the tribe, knowing that the people around you really care about who you are and where you're going when you step out the door.

Well, this year we got all that and a bag of chips...literally. Last month we moved from the beautiful Queen City of North Carolina to the edge of the windswept plains of West Texas. Technically, we're perched in New Mexico but Texas is a mere 8 miles up the road. And this means that family is not far away. A few years back, my dad married his high school sweetheart and returned to the farming life of his youth so, lucky for us, Christmas Eve was spent down on the farm.

Hubby striking a pose

Cold enough for snow but that's actually cotton on the ground.


Lovely glow of the Christmas tree

Erik, me and Alice...and the bag of chips

Christmas Day found us tucked up snug as a bug in a rug back in our motorhome. That doesn't mean that Santa doesn't make an appearance! And after 9 (Chloe and Daisy) and 10 (Riley) years of Christmas extravaganza, receiving everything from bison bones to flying frisbees, the dogs have learned that when the sparkly lights and crackly paper make an appearance, good times and good eating are sure to follow. I think they were more excited on Christmas Day than Erik and me!

Christmas loot

Chloe, guarding the Christmas loot

Riley, hoarding the Christmas loot

As the last rays of sun spilled out across the landscape, Erik and I took a moment to reflect on the many blessings life presents and how darn lucky we are to be on this great adventure with friends and family willing to come along for the ride.

Hope your holidays were as special as ours and you were lucky enough to be surrounded by those who love you.

Wishing You All A Merry Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 14:42:00 +0000

Curry It Up

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 15:57:00 +0000

There's one thing that I've always wanted to try...to make my own curry. I'm addicted to curry, either Indian or Thai, I'm really not picky and one of my favorites is Thai Massaman curry. So, when I came across this gorgeous mortar and pestle in a secondhand shop, my vision of pounding and grinding my own curry paste finnnaallly came to pass. First let me just say, for anyone who has ever tried to find galangal root and doesn't live in a large metropolitan area with a large Thai population, let me just tell you that you're going to have an adventure...and probably see things and meet people you might soon want to forget. Be that as it may, I did find the galangal root and the many other exotic ingredients required for my first curry experiment. And I just might want to add, it was due to no small amount of assistance from the very patient and oh-so-much-braver spousal unit (what would I do without that guy!).

So, ingredients procured, I dove in. I chopped, pounded, grinded, whined, asked the spousal unit for a donation of his muscle power, grinded some more, calculated the calories I was burning while doing all of the aforementioned, sniffed, sighed, laughed giddily and finally produced my very own.......

curry paste! Woohoo! Did I screw things up a bit? Duh, of course, but it was still delish...though not as delish as my favorite curry at Cham Thai in Billings, MT to which I measure all other curries (is it too weird that my favorite Thai restaurant is in Billings, MT? I swear it's better than any that I've tried, from Australia to New York! Try it and then we'll see who should be labeled "crazy"). So, I will call my curry making a minor success and I look forward to my next attempt...though I'm not sure the hubby would say the same. Hrmph. Maybe I'll just move on to my other desired use of mortar and pestle. Making my own chocolate! Now, if I could just get my hands on some cacao beans.....

And since I'm talking successful kitchen adventures, here's another that really knocked our socks off. It's a recipe for a Tomato Pie. Oh, stop it! Don't think I don't see you turning your nose up! I see you. But I swear this recipe is so good you'll get past the less than appealing title and be running to your computers to post your own blogs about this tasty little dish. It comes from one of my favorite bloggers, Nici, over at Dig This Chick.

She made it as a pie, but due to my attempt to cut carbs, I turned it into a tomato tart, using only a half recipe of a Pate Brisee. Other than the fact I substituted a shallot for the garlic (and only because I had more shallots than garlic) and changed it from a pie to a tart, I followed her recipe exactly and came up with...

magic! And a favorite new dinner recipe. Hmm, and let's not overlook the fact I got to indulge in a little, um, BAKING! Thanks, Nici, I owe you one!

Going Botanical

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 16:11:00 +0000

So, I've been a bit lost lately. Due to inspiration from a friend to get my nutritional life in order, my baking and chocolate-making has come to a true and abrupt end. I know, I know it's good for me and having lost 12 pounds and counting, I guess I can't argue with the reality. A woman can not live on brownies alone. Still, my poor soul was sad...and lost. First, no gardening and now no baking, no chocolate-making? Really? Please say it ain't so...

But, I've held firm and, now, only on special occasions do I allow myself to indulge in a little kitchen magic. Instead, I have tried to embrace cooking as a substitute for baking. Frankly, it just doesn't do it for me.What's the difference?, you might ask, and to you I say there's a grand canyon size gap between the harsh chopping, dicing, sauteing, roasting and simmering of cooking and the beautiful ballet of sifting, folding, whipping, melting and rolling of baking. Sigh... And, just plain and simple, it doesn't satisfy my chocolate-loving, homemade-baked-good, garden-deprived soul.

And, thus, I found myself at loose ends. But what to do, what to do? Well, luckily for me our traveling circus just relocated from the land of tall cotton to the bright lights of the Charlotte area and what did I find upon my arrival? ....wait for it....A BOTANICAL GARDEN! Oh yes, people, a REAL, honest-to-goodness, drop-to-your-knees-and-thank-the-gardening-gods, enchanting, marvelous, magical, filled-with-butterflies-and flowering-plants, B.O.T.A.N.I.C.A.L G.A.R.D.E.N. Hold on, I need a moment....

And they let me in. Yep, no joke, they let me wander the gardens and sniff the flowers, and sit on the benches, trail my hand in the water, touch the sculptures and marvel at the orchids on the orchid wall. They have an ORCHID WALL for godsakes. In a glass conservatory. And, let me repeat, they let me in. Hold on, I'm having heart palpitations...

But this is not the best part. Oh no. After wandering for hours, and I do mean HOURS, and wondering how I could move 3 dogs, a motorhome and a husband onto the property without anyone noticing, a lightbulb came on. I could VOLUNTEER. If I volunteered, they would let me work in the garden, I'd get to get my hands in the dirt, I could...deadhead, or water something, or prune or maybe even plant something. All that garden-longing and envy that I've been tamping deep down inside me since we began this grand adventure welled right up and bubbled over. My feet were moving before I knew it. I found myself standing at the reception desk, staring wildly at the confused but oh-so-polite, genteel woman manning the desk and practically begging, alright full-on begging, to volunteer (And for those of you who know how shy I am, all I can say is it must have been delirium and low blood sugar that made me do it) And here's the best part...they said....YES! Oh yeah, they said yes and now, I, traveling gypsy and reformed chocolate-maker/baker of fattening goodies, am indulging my wildest gardening fantasies at the incredible Daniel Stowe Botanical Gardens (insert angels singing here).

My first day of gardening bliss was yesterday and it was everything I hoped for and more. They handed me a pair of clippers and asked if I wouldn't mind trimming the privet hedge. Are you kidding me? You hand an obsessive gardener with a perfectionist bent a pair of clippers and point her towards an overgrown hedge and what you'll have when you come back is a hedge so perfectly shaped, so straight, that if you could pick it up, you could use it as a ruler! Let's simply say, I was in heaven...and I was told by the lead horticulturist, while the rest of the staff stood back and marveled, that their hedges haven't been so straight since they stopped using the hedge trimmer 3 years ago....umm, so I got a bit carried away. It's been awhile, ok?

And, just so you know this whole fairytale is fact and not something I made up out of the clarity of my nutritionally-satisfied but sugar-deprived brain, here are a few photos of the wonderland I get to wander through every Thursday, rain or shine.

Yep, and my soul is smiling a Cheshire cat grin.

Away Down South in Dixie

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 17:43:00 +0000

I left the land of big, snow-capped mountains and find myself lost in fields of cotton. Gone are my fields of wildflowers and in their place are flowering tobacco plants and nobs of fluffy cotton bobbing in the wind. This morning I woke to filmy fog hovering in the air and for a moment it was as if time was suspended, was it present day or 100 years in the past? With the fog hiding any evidence of modern day life, I could have been walking a plantation where the landscape hasn't changed in many, many lifetimes.

I've always wanted to visit North Carolina and, now, I sit here torn as to how I feel. It seems to be a state with many different faces. We're in a town tucked up near the Virginia border. It used to be a thriving port city along the Roanoke River and a major textile producer. Now, the textile mills are closed and boarded up and the river has been forsaken for the high speed interstate that slices through town. The grand old plantation homes have been left to rot and ruin and they creak and tumble back into the earth. The town is depressed and depressing and...yet... there is another side it shows. I listen to the rhythmic voices around me, see the families gathered in the parks or sipping sweet tea on the front porch and find a different view. The slow drawl of stories told, jokes shared and miseries commiserated reveal a history of connection...of living. Tough lives, hard struggles and still the joy of life shines through.

If you move beyond the small, plantation towns and travel 60 miles down the road, you'll see a very different face, a glamorous, sophisticated, urban face. You'll find concerts, and cultural events, fresh produce, traffic, shopping malls, recycling, Thai restaurants and, heck, you'll even find a Trader Joe's! Upon first driving into Raleigh, I felt as if I had been backpacking for a month and had just walked out of the woods and re-entered the rat race. Talk about culture shock!

And, then, there is another face, the one I love, the one I could gaze at for hours and hours, the sun-drenched, rough-skinned, and rowdy face of the Outer Banks. Ahhh, give me a moment.... Ok, yes, the Outer Banks. Quirky towns, miles, and I do mean MILES, of soft, sandy, lovely beaches, warm water, pirate lore (c'mon, who wouldn't love a place that Blackbeard called his home), sunsets to die for, sunrises that insist that you get out and gather on the beach with other sleepy strangers in various states of undress and which make you all give a collective sigh as the sun rises into view over the watery horizon. There are crashing waves, sea air, strong coffee, Apple Uglies, and lighthouses. Magnificent lighthouses.

I never knew how much I loved lighthouses until I climbed the Buxton lighthouse at an ungodly hour after consuming the aforementioned strong coffee and Apple Uglie. Yes, there were moments of vertigo as I twirled around and around inside the kaleidoscopic interior twisting my way to the top but, oh, once I stepped out....ahhhh, I took a deep breath and just breathed it all in.

We're heading for the mountains next, a whole new side of North Carolina we've yet to discover. I'm curious to see what new face will be shown to us as the scorching summer fades into fall. I miss my mountains more than ever at this time of year and, ok, I'll admit it, I would head home in a heartbeat if Erik said he was ready to go but I know that we're on this grand adventure to meet new people, see new places, and appreciate new faces in the hopes that our world is broadened and enriched by each experience that we're willing to soak in. So, I'm pulling back my hair, slapping on some make-up and holding out my hand, hoping that North Carolina will put on her party dress and whirl me into autumn beneath the Great Smoky Mountains, showing this westerner how it's done in the South.

Zootown

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Thu, 20 May 2010 13:38:00 +0000

We took a little trip home this past weekend to take care of some business and reconnect with friends and family. The drive was gorgeous as usual and I must say Missoula was in fine form!

I'm crazy over the Crazies! What a beautiful mountain range.

Kay and I enjoying coffee and treats at Bernices

My brother Tom on the Higgins St bridge

Party at Caras Park

Whitewater competition on the Clark Fork

Fiesta with friends and family at El Cazador

The Wilma looking majestic in the late afternoon sunlight

Running our favorite trail in Pattee Canyon

Daisy and Emma bringing up the rear

Ahhh, the drive home. Exhausted but oh so content.

Friends, family and a wonderful hometown. Who could ask for anything more?

Ode to My Xtra Tufs

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Thu, 06 May 2010 20:56:00 +0000

Ah, fickle spring. It snowed here today and as I watched my dogs frolic like maniacs while I stood ankle deep in white stuff and froze my ass off, I looked down at my ugly, brown boots and thanked my lucky stars that my good friend, Nadia, has the gift to look past the trappings and see the beauty of utilitarian. This one's for you, Nod!

Ode to My Xtra Tufs

Yes, I first said "Pooh, pooh!" when Nod said, "Oh, I do!" to those brown rubber boots in a row.
So ugly, so plain, my friend must be insane
to want footwear with no sizzle, no show.

Cause I'm just a girl who loves shoes.
Sandals with heels make me coo.
And these boots cause a fright,
such a horrible sight,
clunky rubber the color of poo!

But, alas!, oh how wrong could I be?
And this point was shown clearly to me
when the skies opened up,
that rain could have drowned a duck!
And my tootsies were wet as can be.

The mud, how it sucked at my heels.
Patent leather's no match for this deal.
And when it started to snow
I cried out "Oh no!"
and tore off to the store with a squeal.

And now there's no weather too buff.
No amount of rain, of snow is enough.
And when the storm clouds roll in
I just look up and grin
cause this girl's rockin' her Xtra Tufs!

Nadia, rockin' HER Xtra Tufs in Ketchikan

No Way, Jose!

noreply@blogger.com (MoonstruckinMontana) — Thu, 29 Apr 2010 15:09:00 +0000

I can't do it. No way, no how. Not happening. Nope. Uh uh, no, no, no. You can't make me....go inside. I just can't bring myself to stay inside when there is so much going on outside. Not to mention the scenery is drop dead gorgeous. So my laundry is piling up, my email is overflowing, my articles need to be written and the bookkeeping? Forget it!

Ah, springtime! The sun is shining, the birds are out in force and the wildflowers are blooming. I would be crazy to miss a SECOND of it. And my canine partners in crime feel no guilt in luring me outside to play, swim and explore. Not that I resist much...if at all. C'mon, can you blame me?

So, every morning I wake up and run through the list of all the things that must be accomplished that day. I have steely resolve as I leash up the troops to take our morning walk, telling myself that we won't dilly dally, that we'll go out, they'll do their business and we will come right back in and I'll get straight to work. Everything is going fine until that first soft, fragrant spring breeze swirls around me, tempting me to do a little happy dance. Then the contingent of robins start in with their "Good morning!" trills. The sun is just rising and casts a golden rosy glow on the landscape around me. Ahhh, heaven!

We make it through the field of newly blossoming wildflowers and step into the woods, heading for the river. The dogs are darting and sniffing and frolicking and I happily trail along behind them noticing which trees are starting to leaf out, watching the red fox dart across the wash, and listening to the local woodpecker tap, tap, tapping on the snag above me. There is a little herd of deer that we run into every day that stare cautiously back at us as we meander along. And once we hit the river, oh glory! The breeze brings fresh, new scents, the sun warms my face and the Canadian geese fly over honking encouragingly at each other.

If we're lucky, the beaver and his little beaver family are swimming nearby. He never fails to startle the crap out of me by slapping the water as loudly as he can with that monstrous tail of his (I think he gets some sort of sick amusement out of watching me jump and contort all Kramer-like). It's such a shock in the quiet stillness of the dewy morning but once he does it and gets his cheap laugh, he goes about his beaver morning and leaves us to enjoy our solitude.

At this point I realize my resolve is slipping and I round up the troops and we start making our way back home. I do usually get us back to get the breakfast served and the coffee brewed, to kiss the hubby as he heads off on his bike to work and sometimes I even get myself to sit down in front of the computer. I'm set, I'm ready, I have my list of all the things I need to get done right in front of me....and then I look up and get an unobstructed view of all the action taking place just beyond the glass. No! Focus! Must....get....through....list....

And that's when I feel a little nudge and I look down to see big, brown eyes looking hopefully up at me. Just one quick run, they seem to say. Just a quick sniff, a turn around the campground to see what's new. And I know I should resist. I KNOW I have a ton to get done...but.....I find myself lying on a patch of grass, with the sun sprinkling down on me through the new leaves that have just sprung and a dog, or two, or three rolling happily on their backs beside me, loving life, loving where this adventure has taken us and I just close my eyes and breathe it all in.

I can start on my list tomorrow......