Life has many surprises, many side roads that lead to adventure and new opportunities.
My time in Montana has been something else, a dream molting into a dream into a dream.
I’ve been writing a lot here in Missoula. Specifically a screenplay and a new novel I’m excited about. Hope you all are having a good weekend, and a fine holiday season. – Michael
A month ago I had the pleasure of filming this massive bull elk and white-tailed deer at sunset. The deer almost seemed to admire the big guy.
BTW, you can now become a fan subscriber to my official Facebook page. Thank you all for sticking by me! 🙂
A snippet from my short story “Fletcher’s Mountains” from my collection, “The Gloaming”:
Fletcher had seen wolf packs disappear between robust trunks of aspen and pine. He’d seen rare grizzly bears amble into bogs. He once watched Enders climb a ridge as if assisted by wings. He’d vanished over the crest like it was nothing.
The watch stopped.
Fletcher looked up from the stove, gazing upon the forest. So still. Much of the world is now, too. Winter has a way of making you see right. The icy crust under the snow squeezes the earth clean. We’ve needed that for a long time now, he supposed.
Enders always knew that.”
A couple years back, I was sitting on a cliff and watching a storm roll in over the Bitterroot mountains. As the storm shook the forest canopy, this eagle surged from the dark clouds, right towards me.
Looking back, I was reminded of a few things. Like how my parents raised my sister and I. We were taught to venture out into the world, to carve a unique identity for ourselves, to become our own people. Our autonomous independence was respected…and personal growth encouraged. This was, perhaps, the greatest lesson from my parents. If you truly love something, you don’t try to control it. You let the person blossom organically.
And I think back to that evening in the Bitterroot Mountains, and that powerful storm, and the eagle. And now I know.
A healthy eagle flies far from the nest.
