I guess in most of the world, they put up signs like this warning of congestion ahead, or construction. In Montana, they are used to announce the presence of megafauna.
Did I say snow in the mountains? Here's the Missions on Sept. 26.
We went to Glacier National Park a few weeks ago, but Logan Pass was closed. You could get little further than this:
So we went to Whitefish Lake instead. This picture has that real end-of-summer feeling.
Then we went up to Big Mountain Ski Area. A few years ago they changed the name to "Whitefish Mountain Resort," but as a friend said, "Only (idiotic people) call it Whitefish Mountain Resort."
We also went here, to the Clearwater Mountains. Never heard of them? Neither had I until about two weeks ago, and they're just 60 miles from downtown Missoula.
Nearby is this lovely Western redcedar forest.
Briefly, the Bitterroot burned:
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Laura worked on pimping out the doghouse.
Together, we did the front porch. (Technically, yes, not a porch.)
And I got a new job, which we celebrated by opening the 15 year old champagne (lowercase c, yes) which the former tenants forgot in the basement. Good times. And my mom will recognize the old fondue set.
It's weird to not be a newspaper reporter anymore. But three weeks on the new job and I have yet to be lectured to about the Constitution. Good times.
Meanwhile, Missoula slumbers along.
On our many camping trips, Laura has perfected the art of morning camp coffee. Witness:
She's also worked on her lake jumping skills. No, she did not let go this time.
Meanwhile, I've perfected hiking with the plott hound. Not as easy as it sounds.
We're neck deep in the orange-and-tan time of year.
Storm's coming!
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