Early starts on the trail are imperative, so we arrived at West Glacier before the backcountry office closed to pick up our backcountry permit on Tuesday afternoon, instead of waiting until the next morning. That evening, we enjoyed the ranger talk at the amphitheater along Lake McDonald and stayed at Apgar Campground.

By the time we left the campground around 7:00, a steady stream of traffic snaked along Lake McDonald, most likely hoping for an elusive parking spot at Logan Pass. We parked at Lake McDonald Lodge, which was already humming with activity. After donning our 35-pound packs, we chatted with a family who were also headed to Sperry Campground (albeit via the 13.5-mile route from Jackson Glacier Overlook) and we hit the trail.

I’m no stranger to the west side trail to Sperry, although in the early days, I rode Kelo, my sure-footed Arabian who carried me through the mountains for decades. The last time I stayed at Sperry Chalet was 2016, the year before the dormitory burned. Climbing 3,300 feet over 6.7 miles, this trail is a test of endurance, especially in hot weather.

The first couple of miles travel through the old growth of Western red cedar, Western hemlock, and Western larch, and while I am an east-side girl who loves the open expanses, I was grateful for the shade. Yet, the aftermath of the 2017 Sprague Fire modified the landscape with scorched larch trees, slopes of standing dead snags, and the subsequent blowdown throughout the area. The fireweed, much of which stood taller than Devorah and me, covered the slopes, as well, and would have been knockout gorgeous roughly two weeks ago.

The trail starts with an incline, but this is the warm-up. After crossing Sprague Creek, the trail continues with switchbacks through the burned area, and by 10 a.m. the increased temperature, especially as we left the protection of the trees, was noticeable. At roughly the halfway point, there is a half-mile section that isn’t as steep, offering a chance to catch your breath, speed up the pace, and prepare for the final push up the hill. You can see the chalet perched on the rocky ledge from here, although it feels like an elusive goal at this point.

The last two miles are steep and relentless. There’s no gentle way to put it. By then, it was very hot (reportedly 90 degrees at the chalet), and I regretted taking out the small water bottles from my pack. At .20 miles from Sperry Chalet, there is a junction that heads to Comeau Pass and Sperry Glacier. That final stretch up the smooth rock trail required a mental push, but we made it to the chalet in 4.5 hours. Unfortunately, the campground was another half-mile up the hill, so we continued to drop off our food at the dining area and claim our camping spot with a beautiful view of Lake McDonald.

When we were back at our tent during the evening, the wind shifted, and there was rain in the distance. We hustled to eat, and shortly after our return to our tents, the storm hit. This was the first time I used my Nemo Dragonfly tent that I received for Christmas, and I was pleased I wasn’t blown off the mountain. After the rain subsided, we enjoyed a beautiful sunset before turning in for the night. Another storm hit around midnight, bringing substantial wind gusts and pelting rain, but there are no worries, snuggled inside my quilt.

In all the years I’ve visited Sperry, I’ve never been able to talk anyone into venturing up to the glacier. (And the last time we were so socked in by low clouds that we could barely see the end of the railing on the chalet.) Thankfully, Devorah is a hardcore hiker who has already walked nearly 500 miles this year, so she was game. We woke up by 5:30, and were visited by our mule deer and mountain goat friends on our trek to the outhouse. We downed cups of coffee, but skipped breakfast to be on the trail by 7:45 a.m. We planned to return no later than noon because we still had over 6 miles to reach our campsite at Snyder Lake that evening.

The trail to Comeau Pass climbs approximately 2000 feet over just under 4 miles. The beginning is relatively easy and a gentle incline. Then you hit the switchbacks. It still is not nearly as steep as the Sperry Trail, but it is a good workout. The alpine area is spectacular, not only for the scenic views, but for the still-blooming flowers, massive boulders, and ample water falls. Pika “eeped” from the boulder fields, the marmots’ whistles reverberated from the mountainsides, and mountain goats joined us on the trail.

At the halfway point, we passed Feather Woman Falls, as well as blue-green Feather Woman and Akaiyan Lakes, remnants of the receding Sperry Glacier that still feeds the alpine waters. Roughly a mile past the lakes, we reached the slot in the red argillite to the short, steep staircase at Comeau Pass. Originally, visitors used a 60-foot-long ladder placed against the headwall. That would have been terrifying, especially with the wind! The solid, albeit uneven, steps were carved into the rock in the 1920s or 1930s to allow hikers to climb over the pass. A cable, protected by a green garden hose for better grip, offers a sense of security.

We climbed to the top and enjoyed the spectacular view to the east, although we were still three-quarters of a mile from Sperry Glacier. Yet, time was of the essence, so after a few photos, we descended the steps and hustled down the hill, dodging a few raindrops along the way.

We arrived at the chalet before noon, well on schedule, and took a few moments to repack our packs and rest before our next journey to the campground at Snyder Lake. Distant rumbling reminded us to keep an eye on the sky, and we moved inside the dining room as a storm rolled through the mountains. I took the opportunity to enjoy a delicious bowl of lentil and chickpea soup and homemade bread while watching the raindrops splatter on the dining room’s windows.

The sun came out as we hit the trail, and the relentless uphill reversed course, and we climbed over several trees that blew over the trail in the previous night’s storm, for the roughly 4 miles to the junction to Snyder Lake. By then, it was very hot, and I was tired (and cranky) with my lack of hiking this season becoming very evident. The final 2.6 miles gained 1000 feet in elevation. We traveled through dense fireweed and thimbleberry stands, as well as walls of alders, that inspired “Hey Bear!” and “Get your peanuts and popcorn!” calls to announce our presence to any bruins in the brush. We finally arrived at the lake around 6 p.m.

We were happy to find the family we met in the parking area, who were also at Sperry, already set up at Snyder, and chatted with them over dinner, realizing connections and similar interests. That is one of the benefits of backpacking versus even hiking; you have the luxury of time to have real conversations with people.

As the sun lit up Mount Brown the next morning, we ate breakfast, then hiked out the 2.6 miles to the Sperry Trail, and another 1.8 miles brought us to the parking area. We were dusty, but happy. I was grateful that Devorah invited me to step away from deadlines and onto the trail, and we are already planning potential routes for next year. I can’t wait!

For over 200 years, the Farmers’ Almanac offered its outlook on the weather we can expect during the winter. “Cold, Snowy at Times, Breezy” is a fair assessment for our region during any winter, but it’ll be interesting to hear how the other regions fare.

During my research, I joined the American Penstemon Society and was delighted when they sent me seeds. The Penstemon angustifolius germinated fine using the winter sowing technique in the milk jugs, although it didn’t bloom last year. This year it did, and it is beautiful blooming in my stone herb spiral.

This is why Nature Calls will look very different this summer. Instead of narration, I’ll post an image — possibly with a little explanation — to share a glimpse into these fleeting moments. Enjoy!

It was a delight watching this very large, and very busy, bumble bee visit the flowers on this Geum TEMPO ‘Coral’ plant this week. Terra Nova Nurseries sent me this variety several years ago, and it’s proven to be a favorite because no matter how severe a winter or how dry a spring, I can count on these early summer blooms. Plus, the bees go ga-ga over them!

Last week, the bee kit arrived, but it was snowing and more than 20 degrees colder than the temperatures they need to thrive. I put the PVC tube holding the eggs in the vegetable drawer and waited for the weather to improve. It felt like we were stuck in a cold, snowy limbo until a high-pressure ridge brought sunny skies and temperatures above 55 degrees to the area on Wednesday.

Following the instructions, I hung the bee house in a south-facing position, which is on our front deck. I placed the nesting block inside, removed the tape from the PVC tube, and set it on top of the block. Within 30 minutes, to my delight, they began emerging, and I spent a considerable amount of time watching in amazement as they crawled out of the tube, sometimes falling to the ground, but eventually finding their wings and flying.

Mason bees are our springtime pollination champions, and as the apple trees prepare to flower, I’m happy to have them in place. My guess is I’m going to spend way too much time watching them and trying to photograph or video them at work, but it’s a joy. Be prepared to see bee pics this season!

In the Garden

This year’s class of seedlings looks fantastic. Germination was a little spotty on a few varieties, but overall, I’m very pleased, especially with the peppers. I cannot wait to plant them, although I am (not so) patiently waiting for Grant to finish the new greenhouse he bought me for an anniversary gift.

Originally, we were going to move out the old one, but after looking closely at the situation, we realized it was in place before the deer fence, so it would have to be completely disassembled to move. While it’s in decent shape for 17 years old, that might be the proverbial final straw. I’m happy with two.

But the second greenhouse needs to go where I had raised beds, so I removed all the soil and am preparing the spot. Grant wants to pour a small concrete footing, and we’ll build raised beds inside. This year, it will hold a couple of tomatoes, probably one or two of my grafted varieties, and the ‘Escamillo’ peppers. With at least 18 of these Italian sweet peppers, I really hope to have enough to pickle because they are delicious on sandwiches.

Although I’ve been tempted to seed lettuce and other greens and plant onion plants, other tasks kept me occupied, which is fine. With several morning temperatures still in the teens, it doesn’t hurt to wait.

In the meantime, I’ve been digging up Goji berry plants spreading via rhizomes, adding soil to existing raised beds, moving beds, cutting back raspberries, and dividing perennials.

Rock & Gem Magazine

After an increase in marketing efforts, deadlines are coming at me fast and furious this month. Plus, several of my other articles are showing up in recent publications.

Mike Hollern is a local artist I’ve known for years, actually closing in on decades, who combines rock with metal and plants. His landscape sculptures make many of our public places unlike any others, and not surprisingly, his own backyard is pretty spectacular. I’m grateful I was able to write an article about his passion for Rock & Gem Magazine.

The March issue of Rock & Gem featured my story on the geology and construction of Sperry and Granite Park Chalets in Glacier National Park. It always makes me happy to write about those historic structures.

Horticulture Magazine

In Horticulture Magazine, I wrote a piece on the history of Shaker gardens. Shakers, or more accurately known as the United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing, are (because there are three left) a Christian group formed in the 1700s known for their communal living, and ecstatic worship where they “shook” during their dances. They viewed work as worship, creating heaven on earth, and lived by the tenet, “Hands to work, hearts to God.” Everything they did was done beautifully.

(Photo courtesy of Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill.)

For my first job at 10 years old, I worked for a woman who not only grew herbs and made dried arrangements, but also specialized in primitive antiques and had an affinity for Shaker pieces. Their simplicity and functionality have always fascinated me, so I was tickled to write an article about their gardening practices. Many people don’t realize they created the first mail-order seed catalogs.

I interviewed the talented head gardener at Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill in Harrodsburg, Kentucky. If you live within driving distance of the farm, I highly suggest a visit that includes a meal at the Trustees Table.

Raised in the West Magazine

The talented team at Raised in the West Magazine was hard at it again, and the current issues include an article on why solitary bees are so important in the garden. Not only are they better pollinators than the non-native honey bees, but they are also gentle and perfect for those in neighborhoods or who are fearful of the thought of 60,000 stinging insects living in their backyard.

(Photo courtesy of Rent Mason Bees.)

Thyra at Rent Mason Bees was a valuable resource for helping me explain the life cycles of two of the best garden bees, the mason bee and leafcutter bee, as well as how people can keep them at their own homes.

In the same issue, I was pleased with the beautiful layout of my favorite local flower grower, Virginia at Third Day Family Farms in nearby Vaughn. She has highly varied and beautiful bouquets at the Great Falls Farmers’ Market; plus, she forces tulips that we can purchase even in the dead of winter. That is truly a treat!

(Photo courtesy of Third Day Family Farms.)

This is the tip of the iceberg of what’s shaking around here, but I wanted to give you all at least a brief update. I look forward to sharing photos of the new greenhouse and updated gardens when we reach that stage, and more articles are appearing in magazines every week. I’m also deep into the editing and revisions of the Mapping Montana book project, and have upcoming speaking engagements in May, which will be here before I know it! In the meantime, enjoy spring wherever you may be, and we’ll catch up soon.

We are fortunate to live within an hour of Freezout Lake Wildlife Management Area near Fairfield, Montana, where snow geese, tundra and trumpeter swans, sandhill cranes, and the whole myriad of waterfowl rest and feed before continuing their northward journeys. It’s a rite of spring to pay them a visit.

The number of snow geese on any given day varies depending upon weather, water, and food availability, yet despite winds often exceeding 50 mph last week, daily counts consistently exceeded 60,000 of the white geese. Because one of my goals this spring was to record sound, I waited until Sunday’s favorable forecast of sunny skies and gentle breezes. t would have been better to go during the week when there are fewer people, but the weather took precedence.

The key to seeing the geese is to be there before dawn because as soon as the sun touches the water, they tend to take flight in a grand cacophony of voices and wings. I left home at 6:30, and beelined it to “Pond 5” where a raft of white birds rested in the deep blue water. One option would have been to drive to the road that goes on the other side of the water, but I wanted the mountains in the background.

There were already too many people for a pond-edge seat, but I didn’t want to be near them anyway, so I set up the tripod with my sound recorder 20 to 30 yards away. I also had my Nikon DSLR with the 400 mm lens and my phone because I wanted to take video, as well. I kind of miss the times when I only had to focus on one thing and not juggle all three.

Capturing sound lends a different level to the experience, and even though I didn’t wear my headphones, I clued in to the levels of noise, the sound I didn’t want, all around me. One gal was a Chatty Cathy, offering her wisdom to anyone within earshot; within the line, the movement of people in heavy coats, protesting children, and the occasional dog bark interrupted the low-pitched murmurings of the geese on the water.

The sun’s rays touched the distant mountains, painting them pink. When it rose high enough to reach the water, the birds’ chatter rose as they lifted in unison and flew over us. I didn’t count, but whether it was 1000 or 10,000 birds, I never tire of watching these masses of snow geese act as one.

After the big show, I returned to the truck to fetch Zeke, whom I had left because I didn’t want to juggle one more thing. We went for a short walk and watched another small group of birds in a different pond take off before heading north to Choteau to meet with a friend who reviewed one of my Mapping Montana chapters.

It’s always good to start the day early, especially to experience this annual event. Even though the snow goose numbers are starting to decline as fewer need to find their way north, I will venture back over on a calm day to record the sandhill cranes and other birds. There is always something to see — or hear — at Freezout.

(Courtesy of Ivan Kaufman from Facebook.)

Last weekend, the temperature it was -7 F; today we broke the 1910 record, hitting 76F. As I said, it’s been strange.

To add to the chaos, we’re used to snow, but last weekend was rough enough to cease airline traffic. I was returning from Ohio, and a minute after boarding the aircraft in Salt Lake City, the pilot had us disembark. That was the beginning of the 36-hour odyssey where I made new friends, trauma bonding over the experience. (Seriously, though, it wasn’t too awful, and I slept surprisingly well in one of the comfy chairs. If you’re going to be stranded, SLC is the place to be.)

On a literary note, yesterday, I had the pleasure of listening to a phenomenal conversation by Ken LaLiberty on St. Peter’s Mission and the Ursuline Sisters in the afternoon. In the evening, one of my all-time favorite authors, Peter Fromm, spoke at the Great Falls Public Library. He read from Indian Creek Chronicles and Names of the Stars. I could have listened to him tell his tales all evening, and will forever read his work, hearing his voice.

(Courtesy of the Great Falls Public Library)

He signed my tattered copy of Names of the Stars, and I purchased (and he signed) another copy of Indian Creek Chronicles to send to our eldest at school. I think Sam will enjoy it, though I told Peter I might regret it because it might inspire him as much as the tales of mountain men inspired Peter.

Amidst all these weather adventures, seed starting is well underway. I’ve already transplanted peppers and the tomatoes I seeded on March 9, germinated on Sunday, just in time for my return. Now we start the dance of moving flats into the greenhouse during the day and bringing them back inside at night.

Continuing with gardening, I also unrolled the snail spiral—or snail roll—to transplant holy basil. I planted it thick, as the seed was old, but it still worked well. You can see the video here:

Beyond the garden, there is a stack of projects lately, ranging from geology of the Black Hills to a deep dive into the irrigation projects in our area, as well as a number of gardening stories, which is perfect timing for my current mood.

Speaking of projects, this week I received my copy of Rock & Gem Magazine with the article on local artist Mike Hollern, who creates remarkable features that blend rock, metal, and shrubs. His backyard is remarkable, but we are fortunate to experience his work throughout Great Falls, so it’s always a treat to write about his recent projects.

Today, I accompanied a friend to Bozeman to assist her with a rental unit and to sign books. We had lunch at Feed Cafe, and I signed the books they have on hand, then we popped over to Barnes & Noble at the Gallatin Mall. They now have signed copies if anyone is looking for a gift.

This week, I managed to put my hair up in a ponytail on my own. It often resembles the “just woke up” aesthetic, but at least it isn’t in my face. Hats are helpful.

It’s funny, decades ago cut my hair very short, telling myself it would be easier to maintain during a demanding beachfront renovation project where I was the general contractor. (Okay, and a toxic, soul-sucking relationship might’ve been part of that decision, as well.) I thought I would wake up and be ready to go, yet I quickly realized short hair took more fussing to not look awful. Many days, I would just wear a hat. The grow-out was a nightmare with too many months looking like the terrifying antagonist in “No Country for Old Men.” I’m keeping it long even if it is a challenge for a short time.

(My son’s German chocolate birthday cake wasn’t pretty, but it tasted good.)

My cooking skills are improving, though still slower than my usual pace. I don’t have to shred lettuce with my teeth anymore, which is good news for the rest of the family. I found an electric can opener that Grandma Elsie gave us several years ago. Thankfully, my squirrel-like hoarding instincts prompted me to hold onto it. It’s been very helpful. I have the best tool to open jars. The only problem is holding them firmly enough to get a grip. Sometimes I can do so by putting the jar in between my feet, but other times I just have to ask my son, who smugly cracks the seal and hands it back.

Driving is fine as long as the roads are clear. We had several days of nasty weather last week. Flurries began just as my son headed into his college class, and within 45 minutes, it was a full-on snowstorm. Driving home, he said the entire line of traffic to 20 miles an hour, except for the gentleman in the four-wheel-drive pick up obviously failed physics, and he was okay with not going anywhere the rest of the day. Thank goodness for video technology for piano lessons.

Speaking of driving, the 2012 Ford F150 decided to act up. We are accustomed to reliable vehicles, yet this one has had issues. When I started it the other day, the check engine light came on. I immediately changed my plans because I didn’t want to push it. Grant said it was most likely a sensor, and it would be fine. I started the next day to let it warm up, and it shut itself off with a can’t miss “low oil pressure” banner, not just a warning light, on the console. Then it wouldn’t start at all.

Grant has an uncanny ability to sort out anything mechanical. He thinks nothing of replacing an engine, and can change out brake pads like a pit crew. It is truly beyond my comprehension, but I am always impressed because he does it without swearing or becoming dirty. No kidding. He looks better after three hours under a vehicle than I do after half an hour in the kitchen. And with a first bump of my knuckles, I would descend into a profane tirade. His hands were cut and bloodied by the time he was done the other night.

He narrowed the issue down to five possible failures, all pointing to something within the fuel system. After some minor adjustments that didn’t work, he decided to replace one of the fuel pumps, which requires removing the bed. I would love to speak with someone at Ford to understand why they use three different fasteners to hold a bed in place. He had to go into town to buy different ratchets. My guess, it is precisely so people do not work on their own vehicles, or it becomes so difficult that they just opt for a new one because of the remote nature of where we often travel.

Not able to access the fuel pump that way, he hooked up the engine reader once again, which indicated voltage issues. After another run into town, it took him five minutes to replace the first component he thought might be the problem. The truck fired up immediately. Success is a good thing, but more than once, he muttered about just buying a 1972 Chevy. I don’t care what I drive as long as it’s reliable.

The garden fairies have not handled the numerous tasks that await me outside. The Christmas tree still needs to be burned, along with the branches from the golden currant that I cut down last fall. Wind and difficulty using the loppers have prevented me from gaining a jump on that project.

The Tulsi basil germinated well in the snail roll, and I’m anxious to see what the roots will look like when I finally open it up to transplant the tiny plants. This is going to be an interesting experiment. This year, I am trying a new type of Italian, bullhorn pepper called ‘Escamillo.’ Supposedly, it is more prolific than ‘Carmen,’ but we will see. I might have to buy a few ‘Carmen’ peppers at the local Bundi Greenhouse just to make sure I have some. Those germinated well, although the ‘Northern King’ peppers have not, and it’s been two weeks. Hopefully, they will rally.

Grant is propagating native plums, an intriguing story I will share at a later date. It is a fascinating process.

I did plant yucca seeds in one of the outdoor milk cartons. They would be a good addition to the backyard landscape, so I am hopeful that we will have a few plants this spring.

But for now, it’s just a matter of waiting. Waiting for winter to shake off its grip, even though it’s been mild, as well as waiting for spring in all of its vibrant glory to truly arrive.

Here in Central Montana, we experienced a similar phenomenon over the last several weeks, but instead of an awe-inspiring display in the sky, a series of earthquakes has shaken us together.

Montana is a seismically active state with a history of impressive events, including the 1959 earthquake near Hebgen Lake, resulting in the death of 28 people, mostly campers caught unaware. Part of the mountain slid into the Madison River, creating a veritable tsunami while simultaneously burying at least 19 campers on the other side.

Courtesy of US Forest Service Northern Region

The first earthquake I ever experienced was in 2017. It was a 5.8 magnitude quake originating around Lincoln, which is on the West side of Rogers Pass. The bed shook, and I remember asking Grant if that was an earthquake. I believe I dozed off once again, just to be roused by another shake. My primary thought was being irritated because I had to wake up early to go hiking. Looking back, I see how I should earn the “mother of the year” award because I didn’t even check on the boys! They never felt it.

On January 29 of this year, John and I were both home. It sounded as if a semi was bearing down on the house, and then, within seconds, everything shook. John and I were both shocked. Other people reported that their animals acted strangely, though I didn’t notice anything different with our two. There was no damage, just a lot of people comparing notes and sharing stories. A 4.2 magnitude quake brought everybody together.

Since then, we have received three more aftershocks. There was a 2.6 tremble that evening, close to 6:00. I heard it more than I felt it. On January 31, there was another one in the evening, a 3.2 magnitude earthquake that was large enough to readily catch your attention. Scientists reported the location as close to Giant Springs State Park. The last one we had was on February 12, around 6:30 in the evening. Grant and I were in the living room when we heard a rumble and felt a slight shaking.

At this time, the earthquakes are still novel. If we hear a rumble or feel a tremor, we confirm immediately through social media or texting friends. It’s not as exciting as standing outside with our phones pointed to the sky as we revel in the reds and greens above us, but it’s a good reminder it truly is the Earth that still holds us together.

For those who are looking for a more in depth explanation, this is an excellent narrative from Mike Stickney, Director of Earthquake Studies at the Bureau of Mines and Geology:

We have now had a chance to look at the Great Falls quake of Jan 29 and its two largest aftershocks. They occurred between 19.7 and 21.5 km (12.2 to 13.4 miles) below sea level. Most earthquakes in western Montana typically occur between 3 and 16 km (1.8 to 9.9 miles) below the sea level, so the recent activity is somewhat deeper than we typically see. This suggests a colder mid-crust that behaves brittlely. Although we do see quakes of this depth to the west in the southern Swan and Mission ranges.

This earthquake occurred well to the east of the Intermountain Seismic Belt, along which the vast majority of Montana seismic occurs. However, earthquakes do occasionally occur in central and eastern Montana. An earthquake on January 11, 1936 caused levels of shaking in and around Great Falls similar to what was observed last week, that was probably caused by a similar sized earthquake. Seismic monitoring in Montana in 1936 was in its infancy and so we don’t have an accurate magnitude or location for this early event.

The mainshock resulted from horizontal slip along a nearly vertical fault plane. The seismological analysis indicates the causative fault either strikes NNE with a left-lateral sense of offset, or strikes nearly east-west with a right-lateral sense of offset. We can’t tell which of these two possibilities is the case without some sort of additional data. In either case, the tectonic forces that triggered this slip is a combination of NW-SE compression and NE-SW extension. This same tectonic stress field exists through most of western Montana.

The causative fault remains a mystery. There is no obvious surficial (which means near the Earth’s surface) expression of an active fault. The vast majority of Montana earthquakes occur at depth along hidden faults, so this event doesn’t seem unusual in that respect. I’ll leave it to others to speculate about its possible relationship with the Great Falls Tectonic Zone.

As seed orders arrive, it’s difficult to open the box without starting immediately. But we need to think ahead. Do we have enough room for all of the transplants that will be waiting for weeks, if not months, for the plants to go into the ground? If the answer is no, take a look at the back of your seed packet and pencil out a little math.

On the back of one of the pepper seed packets from Johnny’s Selected Seeds, it gives a variable dissertation on sowing techniques and care. For me, the recommendation I look for is for the number of weeks prior to setting the plants in the garden. In this case, it says to sow the seeds 8 weeks before transplanting outside.

That’s where the math becomes a little fuzzy. Our average last frost date is around the middle of May, which puts the seeding time closer to the middle of March. However, I know from decades of experience that pepper seeds can take a long time to germinate. On the fast end, when you have ideal, warm conditions, they may germinate in 7 to 10 days. But from my experience, they are often closer to three weeks. Because of this, I typically start my peppers closer to the end of February. This year, though, I seeded my peppers this week because I will sell extras at my little garden stand, so the peppers need to be larger a few weeks earlier.

Also, I can always set my peppers out earlier in the garden than that last frost date when I use Wall-O-Waters, or floating row covers, depending on how the spring is shaping up. The wall of waters are effective and practical in any spring conditions. I’ve had them buried in snow and never lost a plant. But the floating row covers will provide about 4-6° of protection, so that is a little closer to where they could be damaged if it dips into the mid 20s.

Typically, I start tomatoes around March 6, but once again, I will probably push that by a week or so to give them a little more size. Plus, I am grafting a number of varieties this year, so I need plants of various sizes. I’ll start some in the beginning of March and will continue with cell seeds to have options when it comes to grafting.

I am trying something new this year, and it’s kind of fun. Thanks, social media. I thought I would give the snail roll a whirl to see how it does in propagation. The basic concept is that by placing soil on an impermeable material, in this case a packing material, we can sow viral videos from asked me to do a video more seeds in a small space.

I’m not sure how well this actually translates, since I grow 25 seeds in a 4-inch pot before transplanting them to larger containers, but I thought I would give it a try with Tulsi basil. If nothing else, it looks pretty neat.

I do have to say that I am intrigued by the one possibility that it could produce deeper roots, which is so important to healthy plants. The soil scientist Gardening in Canada brought up this point, which inspired me to see how it works. I will be sure to keep everyone posted.

That is about all that is happening at the garden at the moment. I am closing in on week three with the broken wrist, and I’m just not even looking at the mess out there that needs attention. I could’ve had so much done by now. In the meantime, I will just keep putting a few seeds in the pot as we march closer to spring.

The complications of an injury like this for someone like me were evident within moments. Trying to jot down a phone number or note, my penmanship was akin to a kindergartener with motor skill delays. I couldn’t zip up my coat, and driving to the urgent care took considerable effort.

After an X-ray indicated a likely undisplaced distal radius fracture, the nurse supported the wrist with ortho glass, a fascinating material that hardens after it is molded into place. Turns out, it was put on a little too tight, and by the time I saw the orthopedic doctor, my fingers looked like sausages. ( I thought it was natural swelling.) Now, I wear a fitted removable brace that I only take off to shower. I’m not sure if I will have a cast before this thing heals, but I am doing my best to keep it stable.

It’s the daily challenges that are enlightening. Not only is work difficult for a right-handed writer, but every day tasks take on a brand new light. I had to buy another shirt to wear for the first few days because none of my others would work. I couldn’t pull them over my head, or, more importantly, couldn’t take them off. It’s better now, thankfully, even though I still have to be careful about what I choose to wear. I put on a favorite pullover fleece last week and thought I’d be trapped forever.

Cooking has been creative. To chop onions and other vegetables, I grab the cleaver and hack them into pieces. The boys don’t care. And I am very grateful for the left-handed scissors we have for my eldest son, who is a natural lefty. They make all the difference.

The dog stays close to me when I eat because I am like a toddler who spills food regularly. Last week, I made pork chops but couldn’t cut mine, so I just picked it up and gnawed on it.

During the gorgeous weather we’ve been having, including several days of record-breaking, 70° temperatures, I could have done a lot of work in the garden. “Could have” is the optimum phrase. I just stared out the window and made a note of everything that needs to be done once I am healed.

Writing has been the greatest hurdle. Fortunately, I have dictation software on this computer, but it is rudimentary at best. It makes up words, such as “kidney gardener” for kindergartner, and for some reason likes to put commas after every other word. I don’t speak like that, so I don’t know why it decides to insert punctuation where it is not needed. This requires me to go back through and peck out the changes with my left hand. It is slow and maddening, but at least I am moving forward.

This computer is a 2020 model, which means I also cannot backspace or change a sentence or word verbally. Because I am still under a deadline for Mapping Montana, as well as a number of articles due in the near future, I invested in a new computer, which should be here tomorrow. Dictation feels like a separate world from writing. It has to use a different part of the brain, but I will make it work.

Great News - The Farmers’ Almanac is Back!

Last November, the Farmers’ Almanac, which had been around since 1818, announced it would cease publication. This included its online presence. In early December, the website went down, and it seemed as if it was a done deal.

Imagine my delight when I discovered that the website was very much alive last week. While updating my website, I found links on Muck Rack to my articles for the Farmers’ Almanac. I clicked out of curiosity, and was thrilled to find them still in existence. Upon further discovery, I learned that Unofficial Networks, a family-owned media company, purchased the publication and intends to revive the print edition.

Hoping to update a recent article I wrote as an ode to the Farmers’ Almanac, I reached out to Tim Konrad, the founder of unofficial networks, to ask about this monumental decision.

He says. “I stepped in to acquire the Farmers’ Almanac because I believe in preserving this timeless resource that connects us to nature, weather wisdom, and the rhythms of the natural world. Looking ahead, I see a bright future where we blend its classic forecasting and practical advice with modern accessibility, perhaps through enhanced digital platforms, while staying true to its authentic voice and community focus. This way, it can continue inspiring and informing generations to come.”

It feels like an old friend is back.

Garden Focused Articles

Speaking of the Farmers’ Almanac, the ode to the iconic publication appears in the current issue of Raised in the West. I truly hope that with its resurgence, more people will take advantage of its wisdom.

I wrote another article for Raised in the West on how to plan our plant propagation in the winter and spring. It’s important to know which seeds we need to start indoors and when to start them.

A couple of the most common errors of new gardeners is starting seeds at the wrong time. Either they plant squash or other fast-growing plants in February, resulting in massive specimens by the end of March, with no place to put them. Or, they plant peppers in the middle of March, resulting in tiny transplants for the spring garden. It’s a balancing act.

Speaking of the garden, Backwoods Survival Magazine had me write an article on planting perennials to supply a harvest for years. When we think about it, there are a lot of vegetables that we can plant once and enjoy practically forever.

Rhubarb is one of the first that comes to mind; so is asparagus, because once it’s established, it can literally grow wild. Another one of my favorites is sunchokes, which provide a somewhat sweet-tasting tuber below a beautiful sunflower-like plant. My hope is that this article will give gardeners ideas of what to plant this season so they can enjoy it for years to come.

I have no idea what this winter is going to bring when, or if, it finally arrives, but it appears that everything is shifting towards spring, whether we receive more snow or not. We are stepping beyond the Persephone period, the dark months since November that feel confining and cold. The sun has real warmth now.

The chickadee song is distinctly different. The males sing “fee-bee” with mating on their minds. As winter wanes, males chase females and show off by puffing up their feathers. They’ll also feed the female during courtship — no spitting the check in the chickadee world — to demonstrate his ability to provide. But it’s the females who choose. picking a mate equal to her status.

Even though the female chooses a suitable mate, she still very well will mate with other males. Her chosen partner will bring food to her in the brood while they are in the nest, and both parents feed the fledglings until they are on their own. The painter may breed again the following season, though not necessarily if a female finds a more suitable partner.

Back east, the groundhog will make its prediction on February 2, but for us, ground squirrels are the indicators of spring, and John saw his first ground squirrel of the year a couple of days ago. The males typically come out at this time of the year, even if there is snow on the ground. I always felt bad for them running about with nothing fresh to eat, although they have underground stores to pull them through for another couple of months. It’ll be a couple of months before the females join them, but the dance has begun.

The honeybees were out and about with the warm weather. They do not defecate in the hive, so they take advantage of pleasant days to take cleansing flights. Grant fed them sugar water as they are using honey stores faster than they would during a normal winter. Grant spotted a ladybug crawling on the side of the house near the hive openings, as well. Another sign of spring!

Gardening season will be here soon, and it is the perfect time to sign up to participate in the Garden for Birds project through Cornell University. I wrote an article for Birds & Blooms about it and encourage everyone to give it a try.

As reality congealed, it became apparent that some of my friends and family were in its icy path. I reached out to check on emergency preparations and realized there were distinct differences: We live in a constant state of preparation, and several weren’t even sure what to have on hand.

Even though the storm has arrived in many locations, it’s still a good opportunity to offer a few tidbits of advice if, or rather when, the next emergency looms on the horizon. In reality, it’s good to have many of these items on hand so there is no panic, and you don’t have to deal with people in the crowded pre-storm stores.

Water Issues

No matter the emergency, water is the most critical item we will need. Fill or buy gallon or 5-gallon jugs of water to have on hand. It is also a good idea to always have some form of water filtration and purification system. When I spoke with Kurt Avery, the founder of Sawyer water filters, several months ago, he said they often send cases of water filters to areas that will be impacted by hurricanes and other natural disasters as a preemptive measure. One filter treats over 20,000 gallons of water, so it will last until your water is restored. (One note: Never let the water filter freeze. If it does, it cannot properly filter contaminants.)

(Photo courtesy of Sawyer.)

Yes, you can boil water for at least 1 minute (3 minutes at altitudes above 5000 feet), but that requires fuel, which is a precious commodity in an emergency situation. There are also chemical treatments. These work fine, but the taste might be a bit off.

Extra Water Concerns

The other water you should have on hand is water in buckets, or even fill the bathtub, to use to flush the toilet or wash with in the event that your water is out for an extended period of time.

Food Planning

What is a snowstorm (or any other natural disaster) without snacks? While people run out to buy milk and bread, what happens if the power goes out and you do not have a generator? Look for shelf-stable food. This includes milk, if you really need it, as well as jerky, dried fruit, nuts, peanut butter, and canned meats such as tuna, canned chicken, or dried beef.

Freeze-dried foods and those nifty camp meals with their own heaters are also great to have on hand. It’s also wise to grab a few MREs (Meals Ready to Eat), the military’s packaged meals that provide 1000 calories and are typically pretty tasty. They even have gum, a drink, and a wet wipe to wash your hands; plus, it has its own heating element.

Cooking Options

If you don’t have a gas stove in your kitchen, camping stoves will do the trick to cook meals and heat water. The barbecue grill on the deck is also handy, if you can weather standing outside to cook.

Fridge and Freezer Considerations

If you don’t have a generator and fuel to keep these appliances running, fill and freeze as many bottles and jugs of water as you can. When the fridge or freezer is kept closed, these will help keep everything cold much longer.

Staying Warm

The area where this storm is forecast to hit is not accustomed to cold temperatures. If the power and subsequently the furnaces go out, it’s going to be dangerous in some areas if you don’t have the proper clothes.

There are propane heaters that can be used indoors and have oxygen sensors, although my natural inclination is always to be concerned and cautious about having them inside. If you do, make sure you have battery-operated CO detectors nearby. Kerosene heaters are considered safer, although once again, anytime you have something burning, there is the possibility of CO poisoning. Crack a few windows, keep the heater close to them, and always use a CO detector nearby.

With temperatures dropping into the 20s in some areas, don’t hesitate to go to a local emergency shelter. It’s better than worrying about a heater all night.

Charge Your Batteries

In this day of cell phones, they only work if they’re charged. While we might start out fine, it doesn’t take but a day or two for it to be dead. An easy remedy is a solar charger or a power bank that can charge your phone 4 or 5 times before needing to be recharged.

Let There Be Light

Lighting candles during a storm may set a cozy mood, but they’re not practical when you have to find your way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Have flashlights with fresh batteries. Headlamps are also great. They’re much easier to use if you want to take this time to read.

Propane camp lights are also excellent. They will light a room rather well, and there are even solar lights that stay lit for hours and can be recharged the next day.

Take Care of Each Other

During an emergency, people may face their own crisis, whether it’s an out-of-the-blue medical issue or one caused by the event. It’s important to keep tabs on one another. If you have a woodstove, when they don’t, invite them over. Bring food for those who might not have been well-prepared, as well. Especially check on your elderly neighbors who might be hesitant to reach out.

I certainly hope this snow/sleet/freezing rain monster does not wreak the level of havoc predicted, and everyone stays safe and sound. But if your level of preparation isn’t quite what it should have been during this storm, keep these tips in mind to prepare for the next one, because you know it’s coming.

Katrina moved north of town nearly a year ago, and since then, we talked about walking together with our dogs along the Rivers Edge Trail. January one was the day to make it happen. She had Brutus, a Bernese Mountain Dog, and a sharp little Border Collie named Millie. This year, Zeke was with me, and I was babysitting his best friend, Bean, the sweetest black lab.

We arrived at the North Shore trailhead with blue skies, temperatures in the mid-30s, and, most importantly, no wind. For those new to the region, this is not typical for January in Montana.

The North Shore Trail is one of my favorites at this time of the year. The Missouri River flows far below the trail, offering dramatic scenery along the way, while hoodoos of sandstone and shale, carved by wind and water, break up the skyline on the opposite side of the trail. There are several trails that parallel each other, and I always take the one closest to the water to observe the thousands of waterfowl, keeping a hopeful eye out for moose or other wildlife.

We kept all four dogs on leads, and they walked well together despite a few initial grumbles, mostly when. Millie and Zeke copped attitudes, while Brutus and Bean were happy to be along for the ride. It was a leisurely stroll that was a perfect way to kick off the year.

Filling the Freezer

My eldest son, was home from school, and after being knocked down with the latest crud for a while, he felt well enough to try to fill his elk tag. The typical big game season runs from the third week of October to Thanksgiving weekend, but this is what’s called the shoulder season in Montana, which is put in place specifically to reduce herd size in some parts of the state.

Montana has some of the greatest numbers of elk in the entire country, with between 130,000 and 150,000 statewide, but the problem is, many of them are hanging out on private property, out of the reach of some predators, namely people. The elk are not dumb. Time and time again, we’ve witnessed situations where there are elk all over the place on one day, then as soon as archery season starts in early September, they vanish. They go to where they know they are safe, which in this area, is on private land.

To attempt to remedy the situation, because Mother Nature has a much harsher way of culling an overpopulated herd, Montana Fish, Wildlife, and Parks issues special tags via a lottery system. My eldest drew one, but only had a few days to hunt while he was back from college. On the first three days, they pretty much just walked and saw only two or three elk cows. It did not bode well for filling the freezer, which is a budget hit with ground beef around $6/pound at our local butcher.

This next time out, they spotted a herd of well over 400 bulls and cows… on the other side of the fence. Even though sneaking up on that many elk is quite the feat, with over 800 eyes keeping watch, it wasn’t even possible because they were intermixed with the cattle and out of their hunting boundary.

They huddled against the chilling gale-force winds for hours and watched the herd, hoping they would move back toward them and cross the fence line. But something spooked them, and the entire group moved up and over the ridge, out of sight and gone for the day.

A bit discouraged, they started walking back to the truck, and then Grant spotted three cow elk in the timber on the proper hunting block. Taking advantage of the wind, Sam crept up within 75 yards and killed a cow with one shot. It’s serious business taking a life, and their goal is always to do so quickly and cleanly. And now the freezer is full.

Burying the Lede

I know I shouldn’t place significant, out-of-the-blue life decisions near the end of a piece, but I wanted to catch up first. I’ve been self-employed for 36 years, and long joked that I was unemployable, but after speaking with a fellow homeschool mom who works at Delta Airlines, I decided to make the leap. I’m now in training to work on the ground — unloading and loading the plane, and preparing it for takeoff — and, if they deem me worthy, as a front desk agent.

Right now, I’m in the middle of a seemingly interminable amount of video training, but hopefully, I can plow through this and begin the real-world learning on the ramp fairly soon. My greatest trepidation is the realizing of the critical nature of what we do to send off a plane. They take safety very seriously, and I just hope I don’t become stuck in a loop of checking a latch 12 times before I feel it’s okay for the plane to leave. (I’m the kind of person who takes a picture of the stove when I leave just to make sure it’s off, sooooo….)

The primary reason I even considered this work was the employee flight benefits. Flying to and from Great Falls is ridiculously expensive, and with aging family elsewhere, I thought this would be helpful. I also love to travel, and beyond family responsibilities, I plan on visiting some warmer climates — and hopefully even Hungary to see my brother — in the near future. And, of course, I can buzz over to see my eldest at school for a day or two! He’ll be thrilled! Ha!

The other reason is to get me out of my own head. With article assignments and the Mapping Montana book project, I spend a lot of time at the computer. I need to do something “real” that involves mind and body and a totally new activity. This certainly fits the bill. Having a preliminary idea of what the job will entail is somewhat intimidating, though fellow crew members assure me I will catch on without a problem.

Juggling my writing is going to require focus, which is another bonus. I am guilty of scrolling social media while trying to think of something to write, which is completely unproductive. Already, I find that when I have an hour to work, I am more likely to buckle down. (I also noticed this when I’m working at a coffee shop, or really anywhere outside of my comfy chair at home. It’s too easy to take a quick look at Facebook when no one is around.) The thing is, when I homeschooled the boys, I managed to meet deadlines with moments found here and there. Now that I am no longer directing the boys’ education, I have more time. I just need to use it wisely.

Here is the hard part, though. My shift begins long before the proverbial butt crack of dawn, and the middle-of-the-night wake-up call is going to be brutal. Even during this training period, I’m starting work early to acclimate to the change. I am already feeling it. The six-cup Moka pot that I ordered arrived yesterday… I’m going to need it.

It’s a new adventure, but it feels good to take on this challenge and clear out the cobwebs. I’m sure I will have stories to tell!

Winter sowing seems too easy, almost cheating. But think about it, how often do we have lettuce spring up in the garden without lifting a finger? It’s the same with self-seeding annuals such as dill, borage, calendula, and the other varieties that are happy to grow wherever they fell the prior season.

This method is also excellent for perennials, which often require cold periods to germinate, or at least, germinate well. Winter sowing takes care of it with you barely lifting a finger.

Last year, I received seeds from the American Penstemon Society after I joined when I wrote an article about penstemons for Horticulture magazine. They are among my favorite wildflowers, so I was thrilled to receive varieties that were new to me. Following their recommendations, I planted them in milk jugs and set them in the garden. By April, tiny sprouts emerged, and I enjoyed several beautiful blossoms throughout the summer

.Starting thyme in the milk jugs was also a smashing success, and I had way more than I needed in the garden. It was also very useful to gain a jump on being able to plant lettuce and spinach weeks earlier in the garden (covered with floating row covers, of course).

This year, my plan is to start lettuce, spinach, Swiss chard, cabbage, broccoli, and a few perennials, including ‘Phenomenal’ lavender. I bought one plant from Longview Lavender Farm in Somers, Montana, and am hopeful it will thrive in our region, even though others have failed.

The basics of winter sowing are simple. Use either a milk jug or a gallon-sized freezer bag. Make sure there are at least a few drainage holes in the bottom as you do not want the seeds to become waterlogged and rot.

For the milk jug, cut a window in the side to provide ventilation once the weather warms. Keep the lid screwed on.

Fill each of them with a few inches of potting soil, then scatter your seeds, water, and mark what you planted and when on the outside of the jug or bag. Seal up the top or tape shut the side window, and set them outside. The jugs can be placed wherever they will not blow over. You can set the bags together in an area, or some people suspend them from dowels to keep them above ground and accessible. Either way works fine.

From there, just let Mother Nature handle things. Once the weather begins to warm in March, check them occasionally. If the soil is dry, add a little water. When you notice sprouts, prop open the jug or bag a small amount, keeping an eye on the temperatures. By sometime in April, you’ll be ready to plant some of the seedlings in the garden, or transplant others to keep until the weather moderates.

I wrote a more extensive article on the process in Raised in the West last year, and gave a demonstration in Conrad, Montana, about using this method. It was great fun to send folks home with seeds and bags! Give winter sowing a try this year, and let me know what you think.

Do you want an experienced gardener to be with you step-by-step this year? I am happy to help! Sign up at Northern Roots Garden Coaching so we can plan your garden, or I can be there to troubleshoot any issues along the way. This is the year to enjoy your most successful garden ever.

From here on out, the days begin to lengthen. Slowly at first, almost imperceptibly, yet enough to spark that familiar thought: It won’t be long now.

Before we know it, we’ll be planting again.

That planting might start indoors, weeks or even months before seedlings ever reach the garden. Or it may mean waiting—patiently—for soil temperatures to warm enough for peas, spinach, and other early-season crops. Either way, this stretch of winter is when the garden truly begins: not in the soil, but in the planning.

No matter how long you’ve been gardening, there is always something new to learn. New varieties to try. New ways to manage weather extremes. Better approaches to soil health, spacing, or succession planting. While it’s easy to crowdsource advice online—or ask an AI a quick question—gardens are deeply personal. What works beautifully for one gardener may be completely wrong for another, especially here in northern climates where short seasons, cold nights, wind, and surprise frosts shape every decision.

After decades of growing plants in northern gardens—and helping other gardeners do the same—I’m expanding my work this winter with Northern Roots Garden Coaching, a series of online, one-on-one sessions designed to meet you where you are.

These are not generic classes. They’re conversations where we work through your specific requirements.

Together, we look at your space, your goals, and your challenges—whether you’re starting your first garden, refining an established one, or simply trying to feel more confident heading into the next season.

🌱 Northern Roots Garden Coaching Options

30-Minute Garden Chat | $50

A short, focused session for troubleshooting, brainstorming, or getting unstuck. Perfect if you have a specific question or just need a little direction.

Seedling Session | $135

A 60–75 minute deep dive into your garden goals. Ideal for variety selection, garden planning, diagnosing issues, or navigating northern-climate challenges. Includes personalized recommendations and a written action plan.

Strong Roots Plan | $275

A comprehensive planning session that looks at layout, planting schedules, soil health, and season-long strategy—so you’re ready from spring thaw through fall frost.

Perennial Partner Program | $630

Year-round support for gardeners who want ongoing guidance. This includes a customized annual plan, regular check-ins, email support during the growing season, and an end-of-season review to set you up for even greater success next year.

If the darkness of December has you longing for green things—or if you want to enter the coming season with clarity instead of guesswork—this is the perfect time to start.

The days are getting longer.

Let’s use this moment to plan a garden that truly works for you.

👉 Learn more and sign up at Northern Roots Garden Coaching.