Visitors and Gifts and a Run for the Border.

Cooper was born on a warm, stormy night in October. We spent most of three days in the hospital in Missoula, which was nice but for the fact that the hospital was almost entirely windowless. I snuck out a few times each day to go home and get the paper, wash my hair, and walk the plott hound, and each time emerging into nature from the antiseptic confines of the hospital was a strange experience--I was surprised to see that day had ended, or barely begun, that winds were howling, or had grown silent, and that it was still warm, or cold air was arriving. The day we brought Cooper home from the hospital new snow ringed the valley and two mornings later the temperature on our backyard thermometer dropped to 21 degrees, bringing down leaves in constant flurry and ending what most people would call fall.



The arrival of Cooper also heralded the arrival of lots of friends and neighbors. We had a dinner train that showed up at our front door for more than a week, including one neighbor who brought over fresh Mexican from a downtown restaurant. There were baskets of goodies, parcels of gifts, and bags of used and new baby clothes. Two family friends sent quilts, one neighbor gave us a crib, my work gave me an Eddie Bauer high chair (!), Laura's work gave her a hand-made rocking horse, and a thoughtful friend gave me a very large bottle of beer.

Concurrent to these items arrived friends and family bearing more gifts and the warm scents of the South. Laura's sister Meri came from Atlanta for four days. The next week was followed by the arrival of Laura's mom, also from Atlanta, and later Laura's best friend Liz, yet again from Atlanta. (No word yet on when those direct flights to ATL will start.)



With Meri we went to the Day of the Dead parade; with Liz we went skiing on Lolo Pass and to the Lumberjack--yes, at age seven weeks, baby's first bar visit. (And by Montana standards, according to a woman there, a bit tardy.)



The final visitor of the year was my mother, who came from Houston. Around this time Cooper made his first smile. Among other things, we went to the museum.



Despite, or perhaps because of, all the visitors, I was able to get around some into the mountains this fall. I made it up Illinois Peak in the stateline area before snow closed the road for good. Later I did a stretch on the trail of Lewis and Clark.



I climbed Jumbo late one brisk afternoon.



And made my first turns of the season up on Lolo Pass.



The next week, the plott hound got some action up on Lost Trail Pass.



I made two early morning climbs up Sentinel: one to look down on fog



and one to look out on the moon.



Last week work told me I had a use-it or lose-it personal day. Like any new father, I decided to make a run for the border. After making it across the border (I get more grief crossing in to Canada than practically any other country in the world, by the way) I spent a day on Kootenay Pass in the Selkirks



and camped on the pass in the back of the truck. Next day I ventured into too-cute Rossland



and poked around the Rossland Range for two days, getting up close and personal with Old Glory.



I made it back across the border into Washington, and after a stop at the new Trader Joe's in Spokane (the Houston of the Northwest--my apologies to the Houstonians out there) drove across the mountains back to Missoula just in time for the start of winter.

(Cooper wearing the Christmas outfit I wore some ... years ago, which my mom somehow saved.)