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We sat at the ledge of the mountain, looking across the vast forest below, to the lake at the foot of the behemoth of earth and rock across from us. A biting, frigid wind blew at us from the valley, yet there we sat enjoying the song of a bird whose voice carried in the wind from some far off place behind the clouds which hid the rest of the range. Our thoughts, while unspoken, were one. This moment was created for us. The mysterious beauty all around was but a sign that we had almost reached the right place.

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We walked into the care facility not really knowing what to expect. This was my first time here, and while Jack had previously visited (only once), he didn’t know whether Art would be able to see us. Jack’s wife, Jill, was also there, though she’d never before met Art and only once, accidentally, met me.

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I have a confession to make: I couldn’t think of something good to write for today. It’s a shame, I know. I mean, I normally plan these posts a few days if not weeks ahead. But I guess this week things just sort of fell through.

So, instead of interrupting what I hope you’ve been starting to expect as my schedule, I though I’d give you a sneak peek into a few of the stories I’ve been writing their premises and a few paragraphs. I’m in the process now of editing these pieces for what I hope will be publication by a paying website or, preferably, magazine, but some may make their way here, if I decide that either (a) I wish to retain full control, or (b) I’m not convinced they’re pieces I could sell.

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I thought I was over playing “tag” in, you know, preschool, but apparently the Internet makes preschoolers out of even the most sophisticated adults, what with Internet memes and all. This is great, because I never wanted to leave preschool anyway.

So having been tagged by Think Artificial (run by the artificial intelligence system referring to itself as Hrafn Thorisson), I hereby now present you seven random facts about myself. (For the sake of interest I’ll try to make these facts I’ve not yet discussed on this site.)

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When traveling to the northwest of the US, it’s easy to see why people fall in love with the legend of the American west: stories abound about Indian tribes fighting it out against American soldiers, giving rise to such tragic heroes as Sitting Bull, anti-heroes like Custer, and unparalleled showmen like Buffalo Bill; outlaws and lawmen, like James Butler “Wild Bill” Hickock and Robert LeRoy Parker (a.k.a., Butch Cassidy), playing their deadly game of cat and mouse; and the Mountain Men who traded furs and lived alone in the forrests near the Rocky mountains. But while these figures are renown in their own right, the towns responsible for creating them have an air of their own, each with its own charms and annoyances.

Having just concluded a trip to both Montana and Wyoming, I thought I’d share a few quick observations on each of the places we visited. Maybe you’ll want to head up there yourself.

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