local to local
Up at 3:30 to drive to Bozeman for John's 7am flight home. A predawn drive. Birds sleeping on the pavement flew up as we approached. A skunk was barely missed in its slow amble across the highway; two deer missed as well. The snow covered Crazies were mysterious in the dim light. We were between Livingston and Bozeman when the sun finally crested the horizon and the peaks began to take the light. It was a beautiful transition. Now I am alone for more than two weeks. It is a powerful place to be, alone in Montana.