Almost 2014!

The lake at Lee Metcalf National Wildlife Refuge (Lee Metcalf Refuge), a few miles from our new Montana home.

They huddle in a line that follows the edge of ice.  They're mostly Canada Geese on this late-December day.  They are not my favorite birds.  In Midwestern city parks, they are messy and a nuisance. But today, at Lee Metcalf, they seem in place along with dipping and diving Common Golden-eyes,  Mallards and Ring-necked Ducks.

The Bitterroot Mountains make a magnificent border just beyond Lee Metcalf's western edge.

A Trumpeter Swan (center, upside down) also joins the ducks and geese.

And then there is the Turner-like watercolor sunset. Yowsa! As three of geese fly off into it,
I make plans to see Lee Metcalf in every season of 2014.
Happy New Year, everyone.

P.S. On a bright and shiny New Years Day, we decided to go birding along the Bitterroot River. We saw an American Dipper, White-breasted Nuthatch, Hairy Woodpecker and Mallards along the icy but free-flowing waters.

The Bitterroot.

 And while I waited for Alex to scout a certain part of the river-side trail, I took a Selfie. Yes, I know Selfies are so in that they're out now. And I got the shadow of my hand in the photo, as well.  Smooth.  It's an experiment with my new phone. What can I say? Happy 2014, I guess.

Moi, circa 2014.

Searching for Christmas

Where did the snow go?  It's in the mountains for sure, but the sun is shining (beautifully) and snow has melted here in town. We -- Mel Holloway and I -- drive up a nearby mountain road to find and photograph it. This is what Christmas looks like on Skalkaho Highway -- a narrow, winding road heading east, climbing high into the Sapphires and then dropping down into another valley on its way to Philipsburg, Mt. (http://www.visitphilipsburg.com/). It once was a trail for Native Americans. Then, it became a road for loggers and miners to use. Now, it's mostly regional traffic. But it closes in winter to everything but snowmobiles and skis. In summer, it's a beautiful drive but not for the faint of heart (http://www.dangerousroads.org/usa/349-skalkaho-highway-usa.html).

We drive about ten miles into the Sapphires on Skalkaho Hwy.

When we get to where Skalkaho closes, there's a big turnout criss-crossed with tire tracks, foot and paw prints.

Here's a Christmas tree for you (one of hundreds of thousands in the Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest.)

Skalkaho Creek is just down the hill from the turnout. It gives the term freeze and thaw a whole new meaning...

...This thawing ice shelf has the aspect of a toothless smile!

...And this one features a thick slab of ice-and-snow in collapse.

White out!!

We head home along Golf Course Road and stop long enough to see a setting sun's rays on the other (western) side of the valley. Merry Christmas, everyone.

Ho Ho Homan (and other Christmas tales)

Setting the stage: Here is our citizen-owned, not-for-profit recycling center just north of Hamilton, MT.

On a crisp winter morning, I pulled off the highway near our new recycling center to take a picture of where we'd hit a deer.

Yes, the night before, we'd been baptized as true Montanans by running into a deer on our way to a Christmas concert. Everyone here has hit deer. The animals are so prolific and stealthy at dusk that they spring out of brush with no warning. And where there's one deer, others follow.  Our car wasn't badly damaged; in fact, we'll just need a new fog light underneath. The deer was freshly dead when we hit it -- never saw it, just felt it. Alex drove straight ahead over the shoulder, getting some air in the process but not swerving into other lanes, and after stopping for a minute, shaken, we gave the car a once over and went ahead to our destination -- the lovely choral performance of Missoula's Dolce Canto -- (http://www.dolcecanto.info/).

But as I was finishing up photos of the crime scene (just a bloody smear and some deer bits that birds had been dining on, sorry) I looked across the road. That's what this post is mostly about. On this beautiful morning, I saw our not-for-profit, citizen-owned recycling center with fresh eyes. I  volunteer there. I help people dump bags and boxes of sorted items into correct bins. But on this crystalline day, it all looked surprisingly, well,  beautiful. Snow, like confectioner's sugar, had powdered the mountains behind it. The lot -- with its big grain bags of collected materials -- was pristine and ready to receive the next round of cans, newspapers and cardboard. The little red building in the center -- our office/workshop/restroom -- was a cheerful contrast to the clear, blue Montana sky. I snapped several pictures of it. One may end up on a T-shirt, said a half-serious RCR (http://www.ravallirecycling.org/) board member.

Fast forward to Saturday, when I actually did some volunteer work there.  Snow from the night before blanketed the valley as well as the mountains. About three inches of the white stuff had been shoveled strategically off driveways and paths by an early-arriving volunteer. I went into the office to sign in, and lo and behold, around a corner came Santa Claus.

Doug Soehren, vice president of Ravalli County Recycling, makes darn good use of his white beard this time of year.

 Santa Doug helped citizens find the right drops for their newspapers, plastic and office mix.

Santa Doug also waved recyclers into the recycling yard.

One recycling husband got a photo of his wife with Santa.

Why do I like this recycling stuff so much? Besides the fact that smart, kind, cheerful people work there, and that it is environmentally sound to help reduce the waste that crowds our landfills, recycling represents to me a progressive approach to living in Ravalli County.  I hear the tales of several right-wing county commissioners holding up for months a federal grant that was meant for this new recycling  project (and that recycling is not at all on their public agenda).  That makes the act of sorting and depositing cans, cardboard and the like even more of a peacefully militant one, for me.  I also like the growth of this three-year-old venture, from a patch of ground at the county fairgrounds to a larger parking lot next to Habitat for Humanity to the big industrial site that they now rent.  People do love coming here, too. Nearly always there are fast-moving lines at the bins and smiles and waves -- even donations of money -- as folks leave this lovely space.

But, in other business on this pre-Christmas Saturday was something just as exciting for my husband.  Alex, a new board member of the Bitterroot Audubon Society (http://www.bitterrootaudubon.org/), took part in the annual Christmas bird count.  He was hanging out with some expert birders. They were only a mile or two away from where I was recycling.

Birders from the Bitterroot Audubon Society, in the annual Christmas Bird Count. (Photo by Alex Shaffer)

Now, it is Christmas Eve. The sun is out.  Snow in the valley is gone. We've just walked to and from Murdoch's Ranch & Home Supply (http://www.murdochs.com/) in countryside south of town. We did all of our last-minute Christmas shopping there -- Bogs for me, Muck boots for Alex, Smartwool socks all the way around, other cute odds and ends.

And in a few minutes, Mel Holloway is to arrive to take me on a Christmas Eve "photo safari." Can't wait to see what we're going to see this time! Stay tuned...

Twinkle, Twinkle

We had a little progressive dinner party on our block last night, just to see each others' houses and the holiday decor. So here are a few photos that capture the twinkling lights of last night's Montana fete.

You don't expect old French boxes in Montana at holiday time. But neighbor Heather Kempka is a master sign painter/stenciler as well as a house stager. You name it, Heather does it. So in her bungalow last night, we saw old-fashioned candles brightening a little vintage box with her own hand-done French lettering.

 Montana-chic is Heather's find of bleached antlers that she had a friend mount in white.

Charlie -- Heather and Jeff Kempka's beloved dog -- takes centerstage on their whimsical holiday mantle.

The Kempka's tree, in all its glory.

Who needs a tree when you've got such a beautiful lamp as this Tiffany style, in the dining room of Robin and Christian Pruitt's incredible house? (built 100 years ago in the Frank Lloyd Wright style)...

...Except that the Pruitt's do have a lovely tree that they cut in the woods. They flanked it with two beautiful stars. (I hope to do more photography of their house after this young couple rehabs it.)

Back at the Kempkas, there are more lights, greenery, pine cones and the like in their dining room.

Even a little spot on a Kempka entry-hall wall gets a winter scene.

Our bungalow actually was a first stop last night. "Merry Christmas" says our combo of green sofa and red harpsichord!?!

Lemon tree very pretty ...

".. and the lemon flower is sweet,
But the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat."

Wrong, oh nostalgic Peter, Paul & Mary folk song! Our mud room's west-facing window, plus lights   from Missoula's Garden City Garden Supply (http://www.gardencitygardensupply.com/all-products?cat=159), help produce the prettiest, sweetest, most delectable Meyer lemons ever.

Leaves are a little sketchy right now but blossoms got bee-pollinated last spring (I roll the tree's stand -- on casters -- out to a porch landing whenever the temp goes into the 50s) and have produced some 30 lemons.

Meyer lemons (Citrus x meyeri) are native to China and considered to be a cross between lemon and orange. A plant finder and USDA employee, Frank Meyer, collected a sample plant at the turn of the last century and introduced the Meyer lemon to America in the early 1900s (hence, his name on the plant). But it became popular much more recently, when chefs such as Alice Waters and style gurus such as Martha Stewart made a big deal of the lemons in recipes and magazines. The LA Times features many uses for Meyer lemons in a recent story (http://www.latimes.com/features/la-fo-meyerlemons16jan16,0,3234618,print.story).

Up close and personal, one of our tree's biggest Meyer lemons.

I bought my tree in St. Louis several years ago from Garden Heights Nursery (http://gardenheights.com/) and we hauled it to Montana. I also know that Bowood Farms carries them (http://www.bowoodfarms.com/) for you St. Louis-area customers. But by mail order, you may purchase a dwarf Meyer from Logee's Greenhouses in Connecticut (http://www.logees.com/Meyer-Lemon/productinfo/C2004-2/). Or, for a bigger plant, five or six feet tall, such as ours has grown to, a mail-order source is White Flower Farms also in Connecticut (http://www.whiteflowerfarm.com/4682-product.html?mobile=1). However, a quick look at the latter indicates that White Flower currently is sold out of the trees and asks customers to register an email for future supplies. I wonder, too, about shipping to Montana this time of year.

When you do get the lemons (individual ones are for sale in Missoula at the Good Food Store, fyi, (http://www.goodfoodstore.com/) then you cook. What else have we got to do when the temperature outside dips into minus numbers?? My husband is experimenting with several different lemon-bar recipes.  So far, we like The Joy of Baking's recipe for lemon-bar filling (http://www.joyofbaking.com/LemonBars.html). And for the crust, there are several experiments. We've most liked a shortbread recipe that he modified by adding a bit of extra salt, from Mel's Kitchen Perfect Lemon Bars (http://www.melskitchencafe.com/2013/07/perfect-lemon-bars.html).

A Meyer lemon, sans peel. You won't believe how fragrant is the zest!

Alex with one of his crusts in our Montana kitchen.

We are going for equal layers of buttery crust and sweet-tart lemon filling.

Because we have a pretty fluted pie pan, we're making lemon wedges as opposed to bars right now.

So, is a Meyer lemon plant for everyone? Citrus trees as houseplants are known to attract an insect called scale. Scale is small and sucks plant sap. We have some scale now. It leaves a sticky substance on leaves and stems. I wash leaves, and the tiny critters off, with warm soapy water throughout the winter. I hose down the tree when it can return outside in spring. One organic-farming Website suggests this for citrus: "Trees with appropriate water and nutrition status are likely to withstand scale infestations more readily than stressed trees. Over-fertilizing with nitrogen should be avoided as it is known to encourage higher levels of reproduction in some citrus scale." Also, for home gardeners, spraying the tree with horticultural oil in the fall -- before bringing the plant inside -- is another organic solution. (See http://www.ext.colostate.edu/pubs/insect/05569.html.) I neglect to do that most years out of pure laziness. Even this year, I had it firmly in mind to spray and then life, and the weather, intervened. I've learned to live with scale because it's almost always on these plants in winter, anyway. A fact of life. The tree struggles but leafs out, flowers and returns to full, scale-free health in spring and summer.

I am trying to convince at least one restaurateur in Hamilton to grow Meyer lemons for her desserts.

I've given the lemon wedges as holiday gifts. And there are more to come.

Citrufication of the valley, I'd say, if I were running for office!! A lemon in every pot.

Today, with a 43 degree high here, it almost seems likely that we could grow them outside. But mine is tucked cozily into its mud room space, alongside a tropical bougainvillea (purchased years ago in New Orleans).  We are hoping for much, much colder weather, to kill outdoor pests such as the pine beetles that are turning some of Montana's beautiful evergreens brown.

So, through a rear window, bougainvillea, lower left, and lemon tree live on in the mountainous West (see reflection of Downing mountain, near the top). Both plants give us a sunny welcome when we return home.

Copyright © 2013, Becky Homan

Cold, Cold, Cold....

I love the cold.  Did I ever mention that before?  I really do love being outside in at- or below-freezing temperatures, especially on clear winter days. It's the kind of weather that's great for brisk walks to the post office, grocery store or library here in town, topped off with a stop at one of several coffee shops and then a return home to a welcoming fire.

On top of my need for a cold-temperature fix, I've become a regular junkie for ice. One Facebook friend in Idaho takes the most beautiful pictures of hoarfrost and frozen ponds. Another here in Montana focuses on icy edges of mountain streams.

One morning recently, as temps plunged to a low of 10 degrees F. and sun inched above houses across the street, I headed out for my car on the way to a volunteer job. But once car-side, I had to stop and stare. Ice crystals covered each and every window. They were swirling and feathery and very distinct. I hated the idea of scraping them off. I delayed turning on my heater. Instead, I sat in the frigid car and took pictures from inside out, of crystalline curves as the sun rose over houses and trees across the street.

Feathery ice crystals on my car window, at 10 degrees one recent morning.

Another day, I accepted a photographer friend's invitation for a "photo safari." It was dreary and raining slightly. I wondered what we could possibly find to shoot.

A misty morning above Bear Creek, in the Bitterroot Mountains.

Up and up we drove, on icy roads and under increasingly gloomy skies.  We stopped at the Bear Creek Trail parking area. It was when we got out of the car and into a drizzle that dampened our hair and made each breath turn to mist that we saw how lucky we were. Bear Creek -- up close, cold and personal -- became a winter wonderland.

Closer to the creek.

One rock, topped with needles and fringed by an ice skirt.

Another rock, edged with ice on one side and rushing water on the other.

The source of those yellow needles -- a larch forest, creek side. Larches are deciduous conifers. They turn any forest floor from brown or green to the color of mustard.

Creek ice takes on an eerie quality as water freezes, thaws, crystallizes and bubbles into shapes.

Midwestern folks had said to me, "You're moving to Montana?!! Have you spent a winter there?!" I answered an enthusiastic "Yes!" And nearly three winters in, I second that emotion. I've scoured Missoula's REI store, of course, for every kind of thermal layer, hat, shoe and glove. We insert little packets of air-activated heat (non-toxic) into our cross-country ski wear, especially the shoes and mittens. So we do "cold" in a pretty smart kind of way.

Me among the larches. (Photo by Mel Holloway)

And we are anticipating snow plus the coldest temperatures so far this year, on Wednesday -- minus 9 degrees F. predicted for that night. But who's counting? I have to say, I love the cold more than ever.

______________

Footnote: The temperature today, Sat. Dec. 7,  was -1 as we volunteers gathered outside to help county folks recycle, at a new not-for-profit, citizen-owned facility. Brrrr. The sun and calm winds saved us.

Here we are, from left: my friend Shelley Phillips and me, plus two other volunteers who gathered -- as we all did -- around a propane stove...

         

...A couple of Hotties, right? Not us, the brand of  hand and foot warmers, above, that gets me through the frigid temps.  (I still do like "cold.")

Copyright © 2013, Becky Homan