Alison Hodgson

Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.

Stray puppies I have found on my doorstep this week:

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A Pug named Princess who told me her life story while I dug out a new garden bed.  It’s a tear jerker.  Her mother, a Rottweiler, abandoned her and all her siblings (a Golden Retriever, a Black Lab, a Rottweiler like her mom, a Boxer and a Dalmation- some litter!) in a basket to go off and marry a “handsome dog.”  How she and her siblings managed to travel the world in that basket to my door is quite the story and I’m sure she would gladly tell you when you have an hour (or two) to spare.

A Pink Labrador named Pinkie Pie.  She showed up on outside my bedroom door, barking sweetly.  “Pretend you’re going to check the mail,” is a common command.
A Bear Bull named Bear.  “It’s kind of like a Pit Bull, but different.”
A Golden Retriever named Golden.  (Don’t judge.  You try coming up with a new name every day for a couple of years.)
A Blue Labrador whose name escapes me.
A Rottweiler named Roger, “Because they sort of rhyme, but they don’t rhyme,” who took every pillow off my bed and made a kennel under my bedside table.
And this morning, a Black Labrador named Max because, “Some people call their girl dogs Sam or Max and I want to sound like Jack.”  She is one month old and was born on January 10 (Jack’s birthday).  When I told Paul her age and the date of her birth he raised an eyebrow.  Max was busy nuzzling his feet by way of a greeting.  I had found her while he was in the shower.  He had to have her back off as he was only wearing a towel.  Fortunately Max is a confident girl without any of the abandonment issues you might expect from a stray puppy.   

Glacier National Park

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Christopher scowling, Lydia smiling and on her mark, Eden looking down and only in the picture on her own terms: this picture definitely tells a story.

Here we all are, if you discount Eden’s face – she did.  This is our third day in Montana as well as the third morning Paul did not shave.  Banjos have not yet begun to strum, but they will…they will.
Eden was told she could not step onto the rock.  Clever (and naughty) girl, she dropped to her knees to throw pebbles in a puddle.  Please note the mountains and then remember, this is an “ugly” day in Montana.
This was where we stopped to have lunch.  It was cool and the wind was blowing.  Sherry bemoaned the lack of sun, but it seemed perfect for a picnic at Glacier Park.  

Not quite the prairie…

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Our friends have friends who own a buffalo ranch in Northern Montana, just east of Glacier National Park.  The weather wasn’t supposed to be that great and so Sherry was concerned about all of us making the several hour drive for “nothing.”  Paul and I knew that we would have a good experience just getting there and that staying at a buffalo ranch would be a thrill, whether or not we made it to Glacier or even if we saw any buffalo.   We headed North after church and then stopped in Missoula for supplies.  By the time we arrived it was after dark.  The drive had been beautiful and the ranch house was wonderful.   Sherry and Andy were feeling especially saintly and split up to each host a Girl and Boy Cabin, respectively.  Andy’s dad, Tom, Paul and I were all in the main house.  

Eden and I are now reading “Little House on the Prairie.”   I didn’t plan to read it the first night at the ranch, but Eden wasn’t sure about sleeping without me and requested it, craving a little of our home ritual.  I was thrilled to see a copy on the dresser in the girls’ cabin.  All the girls, Sherry included, tucked into their sleeping bags and listened quietly while I read.  The next morning the girls were up early and ran out to play before breakfast.  Eden pulled on her shoes, but that was all.
The day was cool and, sometimes, overcast, but that didn’t keep this Carrie/Laura (depending on who was around) from having a wonderful time.
This tee pee is not not just for show.  In the summer children often sleep in it.  Because of the cold, our kids just played in and around it.  I felt so filled up just being under the big sky with the mountains in the distance.  And the green, green of the grass flowed in some sort of I.V. right into my spirit.  Sherry was still clucking about wishing we could see Montana when it’s beautiful, but we just looked and laughed.

Some of Eden’s Photography

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She saw these clouds and begged for the camera.
Like any good photographer, she captured what was at hand, in this case, the flight magazine.  She really liked this page and took some better pictures of it, but I liked the bit of the seat in this one.

I was reaching for the camera as she snapped this last one.  The flash, illuminating this image in the dark cabin was arresting.  It felt like I was having a vision, and I know now, I was.  This is what we can be: walking together, following the light and being lit by it.