White gold. A blanket of ice cream. A single path trying not to disturb the beauty or peace. Surveying his domain as deer and turkey amble along. Happy to ignore them, tucked in quiet bliss.

Finally there is snow. The celebration sounds, calling to the falling flakes. "This is my time," he cries. "Come down and cover my playground." "For I must frolic and roll and dig holes until spring."

Cold air. It cleans the lungs and the soul. I will never walk this trail taking the view for granted. Here a rock forms perfectly into a chair. Benny runs on, hoping I will follow. Today I sit and breathe. He returns smiling from his happy romp. "This way," I say....

For hunting season. Lately I am welcomed home with a large herd of mule deer. I wait for them to move off my road, as if I'm invading their home. There is truth in that. Lots of ladies and a few bucks. And this one, wanted by many to fill their freezers. I wave...

I have taught on this campus for over 20 years. Four changing seasons give a sense of permanence. Year after year, semester after semester, class after class, leaf after leaf. Do we get too secure, almost lazy in our assurance that Spring will always come? This next...

A.J. OTJEN Oct 8, 2024 As usual, the Montana GOP has failed us by nominating good-looking, buff, and brainless followers to be our federal representation in Washington. Tim Sheehy, and Ryan Zinke prove that military service alone is not enough qualification for public...

Millions of needles in my canyon. They age and fall to the groud like uncontrollable cells spreading through the native grass. The soil takes its time yielding to this cancer. At least a few months, absorbed with the snow. Unlike the golden aspen and cottonwood,...

If I looked back, loss rises to my mind first. Lost friends, lost dogs, lost horses. There were also wonderful moments too numerous to count. So I choose to look forward. Knowing routines will continue. From dog grooming to student grading to word crafting. Ready that...

When Crow Fair ends, soon, so does summer. And a new semester. Barely prepped in time. There were so many towns across Montana, darling book stores. A dramatic book. Burning, emotional and daunting. Two years to tell the story. It is finally behind me. Is that why...

Fly fishing is an art. And also a liftime journey of learning. I miss the wilderness on skis and on horses. Alas, my knee and hip limit my ability to reach farther and higher. But a wilderness passion has been calling me for years. Montana's rivers, creeks, and...