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I have come to realize that during winter you can expect just about anything...

Our driveway, freshly plowed by our neighbor, Adam.

Throughout our five-plus years here in Montana, I have come to realize that during winter you can expect just about anything. We have had winters in which we received many feet of snow, and winters in which we measured our snowfall in inches only. We’ve had winters that started at the end of September and ran through the beginning of May, and we’ve had winters that seemed to come and go without even taking the time to say a proper “hello.”

This year has been a relatively mild winter with the snows falling only an inch or two at a time, but we’ve also had a lot of warm, rainy weather that would freeze at night, turning everything to ice. We experienced this the hard way earlier this week.

My wife, Tami, was leaving for work at 7 am. The sun had barely begun to chase the darkness from the eastern horizon, but its light and warmth were veiled in a shroud of grey mist. She stepped down from the last wooden step onto the ice-covered drive and her feet went out from under her. She fell hard, hitting her head on the step.

I was in the house, but I could sense that something wasn’t right. I stopped what I was doing and listened and I heard some faint moaning coming from outside. When I went to check, I saw her lying at the foot of the stairs. I helped her to her feet and we went back inside. I noticed right away that the back of her head was covered in blood. I took her to the emergency room and she wound up getting four staples in her head.

Game trail that the deer and turkeys use to come down to the cabin. We feed them corn during the winter months.

Ironically, it was four years ago to the day that I had gotten a cast removed from my leg. I had been shoveling snow in our driveway when I slipped and twisted my leg resulting in a spiral fracture.

Last night, we had about three inches of new snowfall. Tonight, there is a winter weather advisory predicting another three to ten inches by tomorrow morning. In the Ninemile valley of Montana, where we live, February seems to be the month when winter wants to assert itself the most, so we are preparing to face it head-on. I will throw salt down on the icy spots; we have steel-spiked grippers for the bottom of our boots, and a snowblower to do the heavy lifting.

I’ve realized that there are different ways of looking at winter. There isn’t anything that I can do to prevent it from coming because I can’t control the weather, but I can control my thinking and my attitude. I can look at the snow and ice and think about the cold and worry about whether the dampness is going to affect my knee and ankle at night when I’m trying to sleep. I can worry about Tami having to drive on snowy, slippery roads to get to work in the morning, or me having to navigate them in the dark when I return home around midnight. What if it gets too cold and the pump in the pumphouse freezes or the water pipes freeze? What if the snow and ice buildup cause the powerlines to crash down, leaving us in the dark with no heat (we only have electric heat)? There are a lot of bad scenarios that I need to consider so that I can prepare for them – four-wheel-drive vehicles to navigate the treacherous roads; Ibuprofen for the sore joints; Heat lamps for the pumphouse and pipes; and a small generator in case the power goes out. I can choose to worry about what winter might do to us, but it’s better to be prepared.

Once I choose to be prepared, then I can look at the snow and ice differently. I can be esthetic, and marvel at the beauty of a snow-covered mountain. I can be reverent, and allow myself to be baptized in the peace and tranquility of the forest after a blanket of new snow muffles all sound and stifles all activity. I can be practical, and measure the snowfall against the moisture I know we will need to face the coming fire season. I can be spiritual and thank God for the blood of Christ that washes away my sins and makes them white as snow. I can even wax poetic and maybe write an article for my blog.

(SDG)

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By Michael R. Ritt

Mike is an award-winning Western author living in central Wisconsin who began his writing career while living and exploring the plains and mountains of Colorado and Montana. He has been married to his redheaded sweetheart, Tami, since 1989. Mike has won the Western Fictioneers Peacemaker Award and the Will Rogers Gold Medallion Award for Western Fiction and has been a finalist for the Peacemaker Award on numerous occasions. His short stories have been published in multiple anthologies and magazines and are available through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, other online retailers, and brick-and-mortar bookstores. Mike is a member of Western Writers of America, Western Fictioneers, and the Wisconsin Writer’s Association.

2 thoughts on “A Montana Winter Story – Living in the Ninemile”
    1. We did get more cold than snow this past winter, but I don’t think it was as severe as what they had on the plains. We are somewhat sheltered by the mountains.

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