By Jill Alban
It’s May in Montana. And my husband and I have entered what we affectionately call “the crazy season.”
I’m not sure if it’s because of the long, cold nights that have us inside playing Scrabble through most of December and January – but once spring hits, we’re a little giddy. Grant wishes on his lucky star and puts in for the special moose or sheep tag that might just be in the cards later this year. I bike down to the farmer’s market to buy the jaunty, bright green starts that will turn into endless bowls of salad in a month’s time. We pull out the calendar, plan our backpacking adventures, and make grand goals to plant an herb garden or build a greenhouse in the long summer evenings after work.
And, of course, I pull out my fly box...Read More