We're back from Montana. Such a beautiful place to visit. We had a three hour wait in Salt Lake City and as I sat at one of the computer tables focusing on finishing up my column for the newspaper, I looked up and out the window to see it snowing sideways! That good old wind whipping across the tarmac. And it snowed while we were in Missoula, too, sometimes just flurries, sometimes enormous flakes. I can't help but wonder how each and every flake is different. Remember, you learned that in school? That every snowflake is different? Every single one? I can't imagine.
We needed jackets outside and sweaters inside. The mountains, visible from my in-laws beautiful home, were covered in white. On Sunday, however, everyone sat outside soaking up the sun and eating brunch after Rick's two nieces' baby baptisms. By California standards it might have been a bit too cool, but those thick-blooded Montana folk didn't mind it at all. Talk about weather seems rather prevalent in that part of the country.
We saw lots of white tailed deer munching on tasty new buds and flowers they happen to come across. Their long spindly legs, too big ears, Bambi faces and twitching white tails--I was in love.
So, we're back to the grind. Rick racing out of the house this morning for a 7:30 a.m. conference call. Me back to editing Darby Way and determined to finish by the end of the week, which is fast approaching. Jake the Dog under the desk patiently awaiting his morning walk.
I love visiting out of state family, but there's nothing better than coming home. Back to Jake (whom we missed terribly), back to our own "dirt" (of which we left plenty), and back to our own bed (even in not-so-fresh sheets). It's the best.