By Ann Minnett
We have family visiting from flat, urban Texas this week. I envisioned how they would see this beautiful valley as we drove 35 miles of back roads to pick them up at the airport.
Surrounding mountain ranges, of course. Further description would only diminish how spectacularly they frame the Flathead Valley.
The birch and aspen turning yellow gold. Our family will leave before the tamarack turn orange later this month.
Waist-high grasses bent from recent rains—also golden but purple in some light.
The absence of glitz. Oh, you can find flash and hubris here, but the lifestyle is less about ego and more about gratitude for living in this place. And hard work. Cut wood lines porches and carports and sheds, ready for the predicted hard winter.
Deer on the road, either standing on four hooves or stiff after a collision—lunch for the eagles, ravens, and so on down the food chain. Of course, who will feast on the carcass after dark is another story.
And women who look like me. Some of you know what I mean.