We had a little excitement at Brent's house on Blacktail Mountain over the weekend. The hillside adjacent to Blacktail, known as Baldy, caught fire. Apparently, all our fire resources are
off in California and they were slow getting it under control. It's a little freaky to look out the bedroom window and see flames and realize that yes, Virginia, it is all IMPERMANENT and hey, it could be gone by nightfall! Luckily, the wind worked in our favor, the firefighters gathered the necessary tools (namely helicopters and water), and disaster was averted. Of course Brent was out sprinkling the woods around his house and doing everything he could. Just in case. That's one thing I love about that guy so much. And if disaster ever does actually strike, I want him on my side. Like my father, he has a tremendous innate knowledge and understanding of nature and her processes and if you want to see him angry, get him started on how our "wildlife management" attempts have destroyed what was once beautiful and pristine Montana habitat. I'm continually amazed at his intelligence, energy and passion. The really great thing about him, though, is that he's at least as fucked up (sorry dad) as I am and so we tend to be tender with each other's foibles. For the most part. You know, ask me again next week.
On this end of the valley, we're harvesting town gardens in anticipation of the first freeze, due tonight. We're thinking ahead about how best to tend the earth and our fellow human beings and we're enjoying fall in Montana.