Shades of green and blue shape the valley and mountains as I sit on the cabin deck readying for a hike at 11,000 feet.   I muse. I know what lies beneath this mirage of flawless beauty that presents itself in morning light.  I have walked the terrain and felt the ruggedness of this stunning landscape.  In the length of a mile I have witnessed the mingling of flower, forest, and  fight for existence.   Short seasons of warmth and rain rule time  in the Rockies where everything from bear to bluebell competes for a taste of life.   I know how rugged this mountain is, how her elements and her wild life can both calm and terrify in the turn of the path and the direction of the wind.

My ritual of going to the mountains each summer reminds me of why I do what I do most of the year.   I spend  much time advocating for youth who live with the stresses of poverty.   I believe my child hood love of the Mountains of Montana impacted my faith and  my commitment to fight for beauty in the midst of the struggle:  this is like DNA in my bones.   Each summer I climb for height sight to provide perspective for my life.   I sit among  stones that have been smoothed by flowing waters over untold years, providing a resting place in the long unfolding line of time.  I walk  terrain where paths are not yet formed, where brilliant wild flowers reach for the sun in skyscapes that dwarf large grand boulders. From a distance beauty is uncomplicated; close up beauty is complex.  On top of the mountain, at the source of the waters, I am reminded that ruggedness and survival create magnificent beauty.  And so I return to the fertile valley of the midwest, reminded of the lessons of the mountains, engaging and celebrating the beauty that rises up in the complexities and struggle for life on the streets of the city.

Skywoman, August Vacation, 2010     From the Rosebud Valley to the top of the Cook City Highway.

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