Montana Dreaming

Autumn.  That time of year in the northern Rockies when the air is crisp, smoke from wood stoves is wafting in the breeze, the quakies having already turned to their yellow-gold pastels, and the montañas are blanketed with their first covering of snow.  Ahhh, to be there on the western side of Glacier National Park, in a quiet meadow, sitting upon my iron steed, listening to the burble of the stream, the sound of the wind through the pines.  A special moment in time for this city boy, where the cares of the day seem so far away and unimportant.  I revel in the luxury of the moment.  The inside road along the western boundary is an easy go today, now that the throngs have weeks ago abandoned the Park.  Small herds of deer and elk are less skittish now.  I admit to enjoying the warmth of my heated seats and my thermos of coffee.  Clearly, a backpacker I'm not.