Thirty five feet below.

Bozeman is a weird town. It must have the largest temperature differential from one end of the town to the other. Here in Montana with October comes the beginning of the dreaded ‘snow season’. It’s that time of year when vehicle accidents quadruple, utility bills skyrocket, and ski-slope openings drag rich, snobby Californians to our quiet mountain town. Don’t get me wrong, I love to snowboard but if it weren’t for the latter I believe the vehicle accidents may remain the same.

To get to the point of my story; when I left work today and walked out to my car I noticed the snow that fogged up our second story office had accumulated about four inches on the ground. Luckily the first snow of the year never sticks to the roads as the ground is still warm from summer temperatures, so the drive home was a breeze. The interesting thing was when I got home (about 35 feet below and a mile away from work) there was no snow on the ground what-so-ever, and what was falling from the sky was not snow, but rain.

Maybe I just haven’t lived here long enough to get used to these occurrences, and obviously not long enough to realize that most of us are snobbier than those Californians. I really don’t mind though. Bozeman, even with its downfalls, is still Montana. It’s still my home.