Where to begin but the beginning. Finley is two weeks old today and all eyes are for him (because, what can we say, he's adorable), but it seems like we'd be overlooking something if we skipped over his parents and the place from which we came. It is, after all, a big part of our family and who he will be, even if he does grow up to be a hip urbanite with 42 piercings or whatever the newfangled trend is in 20 years.
We are country folk, born and raised--many generations of Montanans run through our veins. We've mostly lost our accents (put the groceries in this reusable beg please), don't eat much red meat these days (only hormone and antibiotic free), think it's cold when it gets down to 45 degrees (damn it if we have to scrape some frost of our windshield), and express emotions on occasion (we cried when we put our indoor cat to sleep). But we are still quiet people, not a lot of chit chat, and the sound and sight of irrigation sprinklers with the mountains in the background is like valium for our souls. Our lives move a little faster now, but we find as we get older that we return more and more to our roots. So keep an adoring eye out for a little bit of Montana in Finley. It'll be there.
Chad's excitement about pipe changing was barely containable...
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