Back in Montana in September, I found myself once again touching deeply into the landscape - both internal and external. Walking in this open landscape, welcoming the sun in her long slow rise, her morning light spread in a thin brightening line on the backs of the mountains, I relished the silence, the quiet of a deep night waking into a new day. This is a land of dreams - ancient, a basin whose massive lap of field and hills, is laced with icy glacial ribbons of river and stream, pond and mist. I walk into this morning as if it is my first waking, and dream walks with me like a shy girl in soft dress and large eyes, eagerly hungering, fluttering about the edges of consciousness. It is day one, and I have arrived.
