They Would Be Giants

I have a few more stories of Edinburgh to catch up on, but a story came out of this weekend's visit to Missoula, Montana, to see my wee bairns.

Saturday was a cool, fresh day, with a touch of rain, reminding me of the wonderful walking weather in England. My daughter, Jennifer, lassie Isabella and I made our usual trip to the Missoula Farmer's Market, truly a "feast" for the eyes as well as later for the bellies.

Beautiful red onions...


White onions...


Cauliflowers and cabbages the size of basketballs...


And a "now thar's a beet" beet...



I had noted a large number of Hmong (pronounced Mong) farmers on the last trip to the market in June -- they had delicious truffles picked from the forest. This time I asked Jennie on the way back to the car about the Hmong in Missoula -- seemed to be an unusual place to relocate.

"It must have been because of the weather", Jennie said.

"I don't think so", I responded. Missoula has two seasons -- winter and July -- and people from tropical jungle wouldn't be particularly drawn to the weather. Must be something else, I said to myself.

Soon after arriving home today, I sat down at the Internet to check out my suspicions, and found the connection to, what else, Missoula's famous Smoke Jumpers, those guys who jump out of airplanes into a forest fire. Now, if I were going to locate a place in the country where you could find guys willing to do this kind of thing, it would be Montana.

About 200 Hmong live in Missoula, most making a living by farming as they did in Laos. The guy responsible was Jerry Daniels, a Missoula smokejumper who went on to spend nearly ten years in combat with the Pathet Lao and North Vietnamese and the CIA's connection to the leader of the Hmong tribal army in Laos. A larger than life kind of guy.

An amazing story behind giant beets, cabbages and cauliflowers.

Surf's Up In Montana

Not much surprises me these days on my trips up to Missoula, Montana to visit my chick, Jennifer, and chicklet, Isabella. In a state where the highway speed limit was whatever was "reasonable and proper" until 1998 and a city where the townfolk gather twice yearly to parade for the Day of the Dead or in the Walk of the Wild Things, all dressed as wild things, no one seems to turn a head at the offbeat, the unusual, or outright eccentric.


This is the town where A River Runs Through It, the Clark Fork River, usually a tranquil, meandering river in the summer and fall.


Watch long enough from the Higgins Street Bridge and you can imagine Robert Redford or Brad Pitt stepping out with a fly rod.



In the spring, the rains and snow melting from the mountains raises the river to a cold and raging torrent -- and Montanans do what's natural for them. They get out in the middle of it.

Kayaking,


And yes, surfing...


Missoulians have built a barrier off the shore to create a waterpark, Brennan's Wave. Brennan Guth was a kayaker who died at age 32 in an accident in Chile. The barrier causes a perpetual eddy and lets a kayaker or surfer do their thing while not going anyplace.



Those Missoulians know how to have fun.

Poor barn is dead .... or is it?

On Thursday Jennie wrote:

“The barn is down.

The ranch that witnessed history through the eyes of one of Missoula's oldest families is now ready for 104 homes. But, like my mother taught me--don't ever give up. I still have hope that it will go back up; if not on it's original 1865 spot, then at the very least, next door on the 40-acre conservation easement parcel where the original brick home sits.”

With a Shield on her Arm....

Last weekend I was in Missoula, Montana, making one of those frequent trips to see the grandbaby. My elder daughter - would she cringe at that description? - is a city planner for the city.


Missoula is the city where The River Runs Through It - yes, from the book and movie of the same name. Indeed, this photo was taken downtown. It has names like Hellgate High School, and the University of Montaners call themselves Grizzlies.

Jennie may have felt California cities were beyond planning when she left Berkeley for Missoula. Now she works with a people who didn’t have a speed limit until recently, when threatened by the federal government to take away their highway funds. Not that Montanans are into speeding. They just feel the individual is best qualified to determine the best speed for the conditions of the moment.

Ted Kaczinski wrote his Manifesto on runaway technology and industrialism in the woods of Montana. Not that Montanans would support his methods. They just feel he made some interesting points.
While I was visiting, the issue for debate was whether these historical buildings from the late 1800s could be torn down to make way for a development.

The original farm acreage has been subdivided among descendants, the barn sitting on property just across the fence from the original homestead and more modern family homes. Two sets of cousins taking opposite sides, the city planning office, lawyers, and the developer are involved in court battles over whether the barn can be torn down for the housing development. In fact, when I went to check out the site, the roof of the barn had been taken off the day before. To his credit, the owner of the demolition company was taking the time to take it apart piece by piece, labeling so it could be reconstructed on another piece of the farmland rather than destroying the buildings should the situation be resolved to preserve the buildings. He didn’t have to do that, but that’s how Montanans are, I guess. The developer was from Idaho, and that always makes for interesting interactions. When I left, the city and a set of cousins were still going to court to stop the tear down. Well, it's even more complicated than that, having to do with county and city jurisdiction and permits.

My daughter is in the middle of it all. She e-mailed me this week to say she had been called the Che Guevara of the planning office. She said she didn’t know much about Che but she thought that would make me a proud mama.

Damn right I am.