LAY OF THE LAND: A SERIES OF ESSAYS ON THE SPIRIT OF MONTANA
I could start this story atop the Bozeman Pass, at 10:30 on a snowy March night in the year 2000, big wet flakes swarming in front of my headlights with increasing fury. I could describe my hands clenched on the steering wheel of my tiny car, trying to keep my balding tires in the ankle-deep ruts ahead of me. I could describe my eyes squeezing shut as a passing truck sprayed gallons of slush on my windshield. I could describe my tires making tiny adjustments on the slushpack, momentarily losing their grip and searching for it again, and my whole body clenching up as if the force of my muscles could keep me on the road. I could describe my eyes becoming mesmerized by the flakes, then finally finding the orange light of a plow to follow behind. Continue Reading →
