Montana Air Views From A Transplant

By Sharon Levine

These views from a transplant from civilization, if read by native Montanans, will either bore them to tears or cause hysterical laughter. It’s all normal and routine to them. But to other transplants and foreigners, there may be some small amusement. Montana is a magical and gorgeous place. I think only a foreigner can recognize that with true depth. We have lived so long outside of paradise.

The book is a compilation of episodes in a blog, which accounts for possible confusion of seasons and repetition.

Once I found myself living here, there was no way I could ever, ever leave.

If I have failed to convey the magic, it is my fault, not Montana’s.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sharon Levine
• Release date: Jun 24, 2014

Sharon Levine

It took 20 years for my “Little Voice” to nag me into writing the two-book memoir. I had to retire to the Montana mountains to make it happen. In addition to writing for the web site loving1withmentalillness, I illustrate the site with scenes made of silk, suede, batiks. Once retired, there was finally time to create and not watch the clock or the calendar. At age 76 and-a-half, I’m finally free.

Book preview

PREFACE TO MONTANA AIR

These views from a transplant from civilization, if read by native Montanans, will either bore them to tears or cause hysterical laughter. It’s all normal and routine to them. But to other transplants and foreigners, there may be some small amusement. Montana is a magical and gorgeous place. I think only a foreigner can recognize that with true depth. We have lived so long outside of paradise.

The book is a compilation of episodes in a blog, which accounts for possible confusion of seasons and repetition.

Once I found myself living here, there was no way I could ever, ever leave.

If I have failed to convey the magic, it is my fault, not Montana’s.

VIEWS FROM A TRANSPLANT

Don’t ask me why I left Washington State to settle in northwest Montana. There were reasons at the time that made it the only choice. 12-Step people say that doing a geographic does no good. No matter where you go, there you are. Well sometimes a geographic is the only path to sanity. It comes down to percentages. What percentage of the move is running away, and how much is running toward? On balance, the majority of my move was running toward.

So I moved. Mostly because it’s so damned beautiful in Montana. The sky is bluer and the moon is whiter; no pollution. The spring water that comes out of the ground tests so pure that bureaucrats tell ranchers, Don’t mess with it. At night there are more stars than anyone can count and constellations I have never seen before. It’s dazzling. I drink perfectly pure Jersey milk and cream right from the cow. No one has fixed it. I made butter once from the cream. It was a lot of work, but no one ever tasted better butter. I get fresh eggs right from the chickens. They haven’t been in storage for months. People build simple raised garden beds in which they can grow corn, and beans; you name it and send for the seeds, and you’ve got it. There are bakeries that will sell you fresh bread, no preservatives, several varieties, sliced free. The other day, a small Mennonite grocery was giving away watermelons. Incidentally, I have found Mennonites wonderful people and solid citizens. This country could use a lot more of them.

Then there are the rest of the residents. They take the word Neighbor seriously. If you are sick and can’t milk your cows, a neighbor will come and do it for nothing. If your truck breaks down, the mechanic neighbor down the road will come to your cabin and pick you up. No charge. When you get his bill for repair, it is not inflated due to taxes and overhead. If someone gets free food, they share. Just about everyone I have met is volunteering on some level to help someone. But it is done quietly. Bragging is frowned upon.

I really have to talk about Montana men. Oh, yes indeed I do. You see guys on TV with muscle definition that comes from personal trainers and expensive gyms. We are led to believe that this is the essence of masculine strength. When you see a genuine Montana man, one descended from generations of pioneer stock, from families who homesteaded, farmed, ranched cattle, knew about true stewardship of Montana’s forests, built the houses and barns and log cabins to last…. you see quiet, modest power. The muscles are there, not defined, but obvious. They are big, and you know they could pick up one adult under each arm without heavy breathing. There are eyes in lined, tanned faces that have seen different crises than one ever sees in the city: Life-threatening danger from fires, and timber falling to the ground. They seem to be more calm, peaceful, and self confident than any city man I have ever met. They are simply gorgeous and make John Wayne or Brad Pitt look like wimps. Hollywood has no one who could play these men in a movie. They need to come to the source. But it’s doubtful that any of these real men would have any truck with Hollywood types.

All that self confidence shining out of those faces full of character tends to give them a bit of an attitude. They seem to think that women are nice critters to have around for various reasons, but don’t take us too seriously. This attitude from a man in civilization would be intolerable. Somehow from a real Montana man, it’s almost charming.

It isn’t that Montana women are any less impressive. Especially those who live here in the mountains. They, too, come from generations of people who homesteaded, built, and lived off the land. I know one attractive woman who is a real estate broker. She hunts every year, does her own butchering, and fills her freezer with the meat and lives off it all year. She is so self sufficient, it must drive the men crazy. She is the essence of an Alpha Woman, but she is not the exception. There are women who run cattle ranches on their own. Remember that this is dealing with animals in every season, including below-freezing temperatures and deep snow. That’s the season when civilized people are sitting inside watching TV.

I live in a log cabin on a cattle ranch. Part of the cabin is over 100 years old. The husband and wife who own the ranch are the kindest, most giving human beings I will ever know in this life. The number of kids and adults they reach out and help can’t be counted.

The landowner milks his cows twice a day, all seasons, every 12 hours. He adopts cows that come in looking unloved and scruffy. In a few months of eating vitamin reinforced grain, home grown hay, and free range grass, they become absolutely beautiful.

Today there arrived a young jersey bull who loves being petted by people. He is the equivalent of a pimply teenager. He likes to take naps with the eldest cow, unaware that when his hormones drop he will have a different agenda. For the moment, he is almost a domesticated pet.

Does it seem impossible that this really exists? It’s real!

You can expect my whining will soon be heard clear to Texas because I am about to experience my first Montana winter. Today the air is icy and wet in the low ‘40’s. There is snow on high peaks, but these tougher- than- life people insist this is only FALL! Stay tuned.

MONTANA SAYS IT’S FALL

Weather news this a.m. said, We won’t see the ‘50’s again. It’s in the 40’s, but very damp and freezing, like a very cold San Francisco fog. This is Montana Fall, which feels like the dead of winter to me. There is a dusting of snow at about 4000 feet, up high on the mountain I see out the cabin’s front window.

I still have trouble telling the pines apart. Ponderosa, Lodge pole, etc. But I have grown to love a fir that was just a name to me before. The larch. It’s deciduous. So last spring it was lime green with the softest needles, like a Hemlock, only they felt so gentle. Now you can spot them on the mountains scattered in rows along cliffs among the firs and pines…needles, yellow turning to orange. Larch don’t like shade, so they grow where they can see the sun and are not shaded by the tall pines. And when they die, one is allowed to cut them down for firewood. The Boss has put a pile of it on my porch. Pine wood is soft and white (or blue where the fungus hit… blue pine is highly prized), but larch is hardwood and when it’s cut is kind of peach color. Pine tends to leave creosote on the windows of my soapstone covered wood stove. Larch and other hardwoods burn it off. I have watched The Boss with an axe, skilled as a surgeon. He can aim so perfectly that he can stand a log on end, and slice off kindling, by the half inch precisely.

I can’t imagine how depressing it must be for all those who were loggers. They will always be loggers. They watch lumber shipping in from Canada, like beef. The local mills are closed, out of business. The loggers have lost their profession. Those I have talked to are true stewards of the forest. They know what to cut and what to leave alone. It’s the giant corporations that are ruthless, not the individuals who live in and love the forest. Between the corporations and the tree huggers, forest management has gone down the toilet. I did a walk through a friend’s 20 acres with a university forester, and the logger who came in to manage their forest. The forest was in good hands with the individual loggers. Instead of driving spikes into trees and injuring the loggers, the tree huggers should have been picketing the paper mills, etc, who are so far removed from the forest that they have no conscience, no regrets.

It’s as depressing as the controversy over the wolves. The herds of elk have gone from 50 in five years down to 5 on this land. The wolves breed like any canine, big litters, and they hunt in packs, for food, but also for fun and practice. The elk are being decimated by them. Wolves are NOT endangered here. It won’t be until they decimate cattle herds or kill someone’s toddler that people will wake up. I view protesters and activists with a different eye now.

Good intentions precipitated the repopulating the wolves in Montana. However, the native wolves that used to live here were smaller, like a German Shepherd. The variety that was introduced into the forests are much bigger, timber wolves. They are huge. A pack of them is truly dangerous. What’s more, they were released infested with parasites, which are part of our food chain. It’s not healthy for anyone. This is all the result of good intentions of non natives romanticizing the Northwest woods.

Wolf

Well-intentioned people need to do their research before they start making all their noise. Every group has their narrow-viewed agenda. There seems to be little even-handed approach. If the Sierra Club, etc., really care about the wildlife, why are they not educating people about the problem with over-breeding wolves?

The natives are ready for snow. To me, it’s kind of sad, seeing the garden season