Montana Seasons

By Courtney Pierce

I love all four seasons for different reasons. Each one holds triggers deep in our DNA that drive our behavior. At the moment of transition, I am compelled to follow earth’s cycle. If I had to pick a favorite, it would be a toss-up between spring and fall. Don’t get me wrong. I truly love the winter. I delight in the variety of animals’ prints circling the property like Morris Code. Deer prints. Fox prints. Racoon prints. Mountain lion prints. From the wide five-toed one, we think we even had a wolverine pay us a deep-freeze visit.

I live in an area of the country that gives me a front row seat at nature’s movie. The environment of Montana allows me to live among the mountains, lakes, and forests. There are more animals than I can count. After two years, I’ve clued into the nature’s rhythm.

Fall is for rituals.

Autumn in Montana ushers in a unique energy, and with it comes a sense of urgency to prep the nest. Golden rays of sun poke through a backdrop of boiling dark clouds. Tamarack needles turn bright yellow and create a brilliant shower at the slightest breeze. Rolling distant thunder urges me to rush into the yard to clean up dead branches, stack the yard furniture, and spade the garden for the last of the potatoes and root vegetables.

Squirrels and chipmunks race across the lawn to check off their tasks of securing their nests. The first flurries of snow can come too soon. We stack cords of wood for the coming winter, releasing a cedar aroma in the air. One of my nest-like tasks includes filling tubs with pinecones for kindling. The wood stove will soon dance with warm flames.

Then comes the ritual of perusing through my recipe books to make hearty soups and stews for the slow cooker. There’s nothing more satisfying than walking through the door to a savory aroma of roasting meat. The hunt is on to fill the freezer with wild elk and venison. My husband and I study maps of where we will stalk the woods. On weekends, we don our camo gear and strap on our rifles. Hunting is not just for food. The whole animal is used: the hide for leather, the bone as fertilizer for the garden, and the fat for preservative oil.

Hunting may make people a bit squeamish, but this is Montana. Most of us prep to be self-sufficient for nature’s winter sequester.

In March, the countdown begins. Spring is a favorite for its renewal and celebration. Life changes with the snow’s retreat, and along with it so does my whole outlook on life.

Spring brings forth a riot of colors: blue crocus, purple iris, red-striped tulips, yellow daffodils. The buds poke through the thawing soil, happy to flex their muscles from a potential freeze.  My husband and I draw out plans for the flower baskets and vegetable garden. Starting the seeds is an indoor activity here in Montana until May. The temp can bounce from below zero to sixty degrees. In preparation for planting, we fill a cold-frame mini greenhouse box filled with peat pots: rosemary, basil, oregano, dill, parsley, thyme, marigolds, peas, beans, beets, kohlrabi, and several varieties of tomatoes. Grow lights hum with their life-giving glow.

In the early morning hours of spring, ethereal sounds emit from the still-frozen lake behind our house. As the ice begins to stress and crack, a deep, harmonic wooo .  . wooo  . . wooo reverberates through the air. It’s like an ancient harmonic call. Personally, I think it’s Mother Nature’s warning for the animals to “stay off the ice.” This amazing phenomenon is one that most people don’t get to experience.

When open water starts to emerge, dozens of ducks and geese arrive for their first open-swim session. Let the mating rituals begin! There’s a reason Stravinsky wrote The Rite of Spring. In the coming month the little ones will hatch, like tiny ping-pong balls with fuzz. They’ll float behind mama in a perfectly straight line as she teaches them to dive. I could watch them pop up for hours.

The garden provides a perfect vantage point to watch the wildlife. Bears emerge from their dens to forage for berries and fresh green shoots. Turtles and bass come up from their hibernation at the bottom of the lake. And with their appearance, the eagles and osprey swoop overhead. Does debut their wobbly fawns, instructing them how to raid our garden. I will usually go outside to give them a half-hearted scold, but they don’t seem to mind me at all.

We shed our heavy layers of clothing to let our skin breathe again. We drink in the spring sun with an appreciation for what life should be. Sometimes stunning sights catch our eye that force us to stop at the side of the road. Like glorious artwork, nearby farms are carpeted with canola blooms. A sea of gold, like infinite bullion presents itself as far as the eye can see.

Soon we’ll strap the canoe on the pick-up and head to mountains. The quiet of the wilderness spawns a calm that keeps our core intact.  All we’ll need is in our backpacks. Oh. . . and our fishing poles, and worms.

But first, we'll take a side trip to Puerto Vallarta for a walk on the beach.

Courtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Kalispell, Montana with her husband and stepdaughter. She writes for the baby boomer audience. She spent 28 years as an executive in the entertainment industry and used her time in a theater seat to create stories that are filled with heart, humor, and mystery. She studied craft and storytelling at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows Program for writing and publishing. Active in the writing community, Courtney is a board member of the Northwest Independent Writers Association and on the Advisory Council of the Independent Publishing Resource Center. She is a member of Willamette Writers, Pacific Northwest Writers Association, and Authors of the Flathead. The Executrix received the Library Journal Self-E recommendation seal.

Print and E-books are available through most major online retailers, including Amazon.com.

Check out all of Courtney's books: 

courtney-pierce.com and windtreepress.com 

New York Times best-selling author Karen Karbo says, "Courtney Pierce spins a madcap tale of family grudges, sisterly love, unexpected romance, mysterious mobsters and dog love. Reading Indigo Lake is like drinking champagne with a chaser of Mountain Dew. Pure Delight."

Coming in 2021!

When Aubrey Cenderon moves to Montana after the death of her father, the peace and quiet of Big Sky Country becomes complicated with a knock on the door from the sheriff. An injured grizzly bear is on the loose and it must be eliminated before it kills again. The sheriff's insistence that she buy a gun for protection will present Aubrey with some serious soul-searching, because the grizzly-on-the-run is hunting her too . . . for a different reason.