I always believed the end of summer in Montana was when the colonies of cliff swallows disappear. If it’s not the end, it’s the beginning of the end. They spend a furious time swirling and dipping and daubing, building their mud huts one beak full of mortar at a time in the McAtee or the Kelly, the Lyons or Ruby Ck….and the Swallow Cliffs. High up and inaccessible…safe from the raptors and predators…and humans. Soon, a tiny feathered head peeps out from each entry hole…”feed me”…”teach me how to fly”…and by the end of August they are gone.

I know a place…”The Tunnel”…where I can walk right up to them when they are empty…and marvel at the natural construction, the detail, the strength.

It is the end of summer in Montana….but next year it will be the beginning of Spring.

Walk the Earth.