Good morning Canada, and the rest of the pearly world.
After days spent in Montana, I am glad to be home. I have missed the scents of vanilla that decorate my sheets, and the cracks in the corner of my kitchen. I have missed the soaps beside my bathtub, and the crumbs of dog food on the living room floor. To travel is a beautiful thing. To return from travel with a heart gratified by home is even more beautiful.
As we crossed the border, the sights of Canada remained. The mountains appeared as archways into heaven, the hills rolled like sculpted dough, and the sky was animatedly existent. I felt very much at home in the scenery, and the weather of Northwestern Montana. The marked camber in the hills, the well formed skyline, and the wildlife. All of it looked so familiar to me. When I peaked through my window, there were baby deer licking road salts, and giant elk on the edge of the forest. The road curved and met land that looked parallel to the Canadian pines. I could never fall into my pillow while at travel, it would be a waste to sleep when the windows are a moving picture.
The United States welcomed us with road signs, lower gas prices, statues of cowboys, and American flags. When we arrived, we tugged at our American bills instantly to spend at a grocery market. As we walked down the aisles of prepackaged foods, we found wild flavors of potato chips, and a number of soda flavors foreign to Canada. By the end of an hour, our cart was filled with fats, sugars, and liquor. (You can't be mad at belly growth when you're on vacation, it's just part of the fun.)
(Interesting fact : In Canada, alcohol is placed on the shelves of liquor stores and you must be 18 to enter. In the United States, wines and beers are placed on grocery store shelves! )
After market wandering, we drove through the town of Kalispell, to find our place of stay. My pa booked us a historic home located on main street. As we drove, I marveled at the ancient wooden buildings. It was as if the streets were sprinkled with historical glow. I imagined cowboys following dusty trails into town, with high crowned hats attached to their brow, and cotton neckerchiefs for mopping up sweat. I imagined stallions and mares. I envisioned myself a saloon girl in a petticoat bodice with hair curled like a pig's tail. . . . For 60 ticks of the second hand, I belonged to the wild west.
Main street (where we stayed) had antique houses that were built and lived in by saloon owners, brothels, teachers, explorers, and authors. Each house had it's own paint, along with it's own story. The house we lived in was covered in crooked steps, and pictures of mountains. In the front yard, there was a water well designed by bricks. In the back, there was a rusty ladder for fruit picking and apples that looked like baby pumpkins covering the green. I wish I could take the house, and it's belongings, and travel it to Calgary, so I could breath in it daily.
The days in Montana were spent eating, looking at the sky, and trading paper money for cloth and jewelry. I am lucky, so very lucky to be given the charms of travel, and to be given the distraction of foreign soil. Each time I leave my country, I am reminded of how beautiful it is, and how grateful I am to be Canadian. Travel, particularly road trips, cause me to grow more wholesome, and at peace with my surroundings. Next stop, Honolulu (hey mom!)
Whether it's by thought, or by feet, happy travels everyone :-)