In Helena Today

The radio tells us most everything these days: it told us about the bowling alley, the sale at Power Townsend (the local hardware store), and most importantly the weather. It said yesterday that the snow level would drop to 4300 (we're at 4500) feet last night after midnight. It said the high today would be 48. In actuality, it didn't snow until this morning and the high was 39.

I woke up at 10. I don't know why, but I sleep in really late if I can in the camper. I think it's the bed; I know I won't have one much longer so I want to enjoy it while I can. Anyway, when I woke up Alex told me to come outside. When I did, it was as cold as an ice rink and little snowflakes were falling and melting on the ground. "We'd better get into town soon; I have a feeling once this starts it's not gonna stop." So we started the car, went inside, collected all our laundry, made fresh coffee and started out for Helena.

The car making a little ticking sound we drive the dirt road toward York. We pass Bill's neighbors, the house with a courtyard and a pond, the house that looks like a mansion and belongs in the South, the road bends and bends and then we come to the paved road. This curves past a homestead with 10 cattle, a few smaller houses and finally bursts out into York with it's collection of about 20 houses along the road and stretching out for about 2 miles. Between all the houses are wooden fences or yellowing trees and on all the land green grass still grows.

Then we pass the home with the greenhouse, hydroponic greenhouse that is, with it's chicken coop across the yard. From there rock cuts down to the road on the right side, and the sun where it breaks through the clouds shines brilliant rose, yellow and blue colours from normally gray stone.

From there the land opens up into a vast valley covered in cattle ranches. The sky is soft, a deep gray and I'd like to take a plane up through those clouds and see the sun on the other side. The grass is the same yellow it is before the sun sets. The river, once deep blue as the ocean is now grayer than the asphalt road. No one is out in Helena. It's the first day of winter, and people are cozying up in bars, coffee shops, homes and friend's homes.

We jump out of the car and get the laundry going in a laundromat near downtown. Then we jump back in the car and drive to our coffee shop where we order mochas and relax on the comfy couch and check up on life in the connected world. I leave after 30 minutes and change the lanudry, then come back and get back down to the mocha and internet.

Soon, we'll go to the sale at Power Townsend where people are stocking up on weatherizing products. Here people put anitfreeze in boats, RVs and cars. Here people paint their porches for the winter so they don't rot. Here, they need weather stripping on their doors and caulk little holes because they let the freezing cold into their houses. Here, you actually need a heater or a fireplace, it's not a luxury. Here people are huddling down for the long long winter while we're planning to head south. South to the warmer climes. Out of the land where you need to drink whiskey in your cider to keep warm at night, where it's too damn cold to go out and smoke after dark and where the people are the most friendly I've ever known.