It was on our descent that I had the realization that I mentioned at the beginning of the article: Missoula is that place that has that something for me, that inexplicable magic.
Soft white flakes dance in the air like thousands of tiny Tinkerbell’s, swirling up, down, and side-to-side with any breeze or movement.
There are some places on earth that can crawl deep into a person’s heart, and inspire an insatiable desire to explore, discover, and be nomadic.
The woods and undergrowth were still in their winter dormancy for the most part, but nonetheless the crisp smell of the woods refreshed our senses, and in a deeper sense, our souls.
Snow awakens a child-like sense of wonder, stoking the adult imagination. It brings you back to memories of building snow forts with siblings on a snow day and heading inside afterward for grilled cheese, chicken noodle soup, and in my sister’s and my case, the thousandth screening of The Wind in the Willows.
I came to the conclusion that for Amber and I, when it came to deep water, fears were not necessarily conquered, but they were challenged and confronted, and for that we should be proud of ourselves.
Alright, fine, I’ll quit romanticizing the PNW and get to what I hinted at earlier, and where Amber’s and my Christmas travels will be taking us this year...