The weather in Missoula yesterday felt like something out of Winnie-the-Pooh's Blustery Day story. The wind and the rain began before dawn and although it quit raining by late morning the winds continued to howl and ominous clouds crisscrossed the sky all day. Fallen leaves hurricaned along the streets and sidewalks in multicolored cyclones and clustered in the sheltered spaces around the foundation of the house.
All day long I kept thinking how glad I was for the rain. I felt as though a weight had been lifted. At some point in the afternoon I realized I was feeling relief because I've been reading so much on the Dust Bowl (dirt blocking out daylight, cows choking to death on dust, children eating pickled tumbleweed to survive). I think in some crazy way I was feeling relieved for all of those parched 1930s folks. Sadly it's 80 years too late.
I drove to the top of the hill across the way to take a photo of our neighborhood (that last photo is the one — see the cluster of tiny houses?). Our house is nestled in the trees along the creek bed.
What you can't tell from this photo is how crazywindy it was out there. I couldn't even see straight and my hair kept whipping me in the face and getting stuck in my mouth. But from this vantage point everything looked so delicious and peaceful that I could hardly stop looking. I should drive up there more often.
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.
— John Muir