The month of May in Montana is fickle. Cold and wind and rain vie with warm sunshine and flowers for our attention.
We were hiking in the Gallatin National Forest when we heard the unmistakable sound of rushing water. More like the roar of a locomotive than a whisper, a normally quiet stream bloated with snow-melt had turned into a lethal torrent.
Not far away the Yellowstone River, too, higher than it has been in many years, has washed out trails Tzuri and I frequent. I quickly re-attach her leash whenever we get close to this angry river god.
:) :) :)