Wisdom, Montana: population 80, and home to some of the best pie under the Big Sky…

One of about three active businesses in town, the Crossing Bar, is where owner Diane Havig spends most of her days. Here, she greets those who walk through the door; it may be the locals (some of her most loyal pie connoisseurs), the fishermen fresh off the Big Hole River that runs through town, the bikers (both the motorized and the peddlers) who are taking the scenic Bitterroot loop, and those who travel the distance just for an authentic home cooked meal and a slice, or two, of Havig’s famous pie.

Scroll down to view a rhubarb pie recipe from Diane Havig

Aside from chatting with the customers, Havig’s the self-proclaimed “do-it-all girl,” waiting tables, washing dishes, whipping up a chicken fried steak from scratch (grilled, not fried), making homemade bread and salad dressing, and putting the magic touches on her pie crusts and fillings.

Depending on the day, Havig is whipping up buttermilk custard, a chocolate bottom peanut butter pie, a rhubarb cream pie, or her famous Fruit of the Forest with rhubarb, apple, strawberries, blackberries and cherries.

Some pies call for flakey crust coverings, and others for lattice tops to release some moisture.

Davig’s secret ingredient is orange juice, but that’s about all I can divulge.

“We’re at 6,000 feet, and at higher altitudes you need more moisture in the crust, so you can roll it and flip it without it being too delicate,” Havig said. “I also like making a thin crust so you get more of the flavor of the fruit or filling.”

Wisdom is located along the Big Hole Valley scenic drive, an unforgettable 82-mile loop with views of the Bitterroot and Pioneer mountains, the Big Hole River, and great stopping points like the Crossing Bar.

Stop in, say “hi” to Havig, and don’t forget to leave room for pie.

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Jenna Caplette migrated from California to Montana in the early 1970s, first living on the Crow Indian reservation. A Healing Arts Practitioner, she owns Bozeman BodyTalk & Integrative Healthcare. She says, " Health is resiliency, a zest for the journey. It’s about coming awake to the joy of being alive. As a practitioner, its a privilege to facilitate that healing process, to help weave new patterns of health & well-being.

It’s fun to get your kids involved in your family garden. Let them help plan the layout, then pick out plants together and team up to do the messy-fun work of planting and weeding. Or you might set aside a special area or a couple of plant pots, just for them. Then, ask them to help document the unfolding of the season, the progression from seed to harvest. Use cameras, iPhones, hand drawn art or whatever might best inspire them to help create a garden journal.

To help your kids create their own journal, get some nice plain paper or card stock-- 8 x8 is a great size to work with -- then invite them to experiment. Ask them to draw and color pictures of the plants then use their pictures as backgrounds for notes and photographs. Let your kids create artwork, draw maps, take pictures or write notes, then sit down together and create a collage from the pieces they have created to document your garden. The collage method gives your kids the freedom to mess up and not ruin their entire piece. Cut out the keeper parts of your child’s work, paste them on your good page and toss the rest away. You’ll end up with a great looking page created entirely by your child. If you plan to bind the journal, make sure to leave 1/2 inch of space on the left side of each page for binding.

Coil bindings are great for kids’ journals because they look less formal. If using card stock, and working with the collage method, 15 pages would be about the maximum for a coil binding, 10 or less for a hardbound book.

Whatever you do, let it be fun and keep it simple. Before you finish up your kids’ journal, you may want to scan some of their pages and use them in your own journal, one that relies more on software and computer design.

To find options for creating garden journals, type “garden journals” in to a search engine like Google. You may be surprised to find that a program you already own includes one. And a program like Apple's Numbers can be used to create a gardening journal, in fact it used to include a template for one with a weather page to track temperatures and rainfall, along with other weather observations. Another page was formatted for noting what you planted, when, where and how. Design and add your own pages, customizing the types of information you want to capture and don’t forget to include digital images.

A good place to start in journaling is to draw a map of your garden, noting what was planted where and when. Then, over the course of the season sit down to write your experience, including thoughts and suggestions for next year. Document your garden from your purchase of seeds through harvest and food storage both in writing and in images. Here are some ideas for what you may want to include: photograph groupings of seed packets to remember what you purchased and planted; note flowering and harvest dates; record challenges your garden faced from disease and pests and weather. Capture images of creatures that thrive in your garden, including your cat curled up under the peonies.

Then, jot down practical reminders like when to fertilize and with what. Record dates for things like when you did the last deep watering of your deciduous trees before Fall settled in. Add recipes you discovered and used for fresh produce, or recipes you created. Note both what you liked and didn't like.

Your journal and images become resources for a great winter project: a Garden Retrospect Photobook packed full with practical insights for next year and good memories to enjoy for years to come.

PS — by the way, your photographs all contain the date and location taken in their metadata. So photographing your garden is a kind of journalling for those of us who never quite get around to something more formal.

(This piece was written with the expert assistance of the staff at F-11 Photographic Supplies).

Kathleen Clary Miller has written 300+ columns and stories for periodicals both local and national, and has authored three books (www.amazon.com/author/millerkathleenclary). She lives in the woods of the Ninemile Valley, thirty miles west of Missoula.  

“Don’t despair,” my UPS deliveryman encouraged when he noticed the holes in the ground where our For Sale sign had been. We uprooted it, I told him, because my desire to return to my home state of California had been thwarted by drought and uncertainty. Would my birthplace, in fact, still be the same after eight years away? What did the future hold there? Best to lay low in what may well be the last best place with an abundant well; postpone fantasies of rekindling my past in year-round perfect weather.

“Remember,” he added as he gestured toward a picture postcard blue sky sprinkled with great white cotton-ball clouds, “I’m from there too, and a day like today that we appreciate here is just another ho-hum day there.” He had a point; I do remember feeling rather uninspired about 85 degrees while singing Christmas carols.

But I ached for sea breezes (I’m a salt-water woman), warm Santa Ana winds, the particular late-afternoon light that falls across Southern California—I could go on and on. When you go back three generations, there are no doubt tree rings with my DNA on them.

Last November I’d had enough of the pining and started packing. My husband reluctantly agreed to the return ticket, but big, bad El Nino storms were supposed to dump snow on the Sierras and save the day. When they didn’t, even I balked. Perhaps better to remember the sweet days gone by than to try to satisfy my thirst.

When I was born, California’s population was 11 million. Today, it is almost 40 million. In a place that has always been arid, such explosion has brought about possible catastrophe, as southern residents in particular have turned dry ground into oasis, fashioned Disneyland in a desert.

Meanwhile I pour over the maps as the red-colored harbinger of drought spreads upward through Oregon, Washington, and right up to Montana’s western borderline. I read the Missoula newspaper reports about officials promoting “growth, growth, and more growth!” Be careful, Treasure State, what you wish for. I’d remove from the airport gift shop shelves those tee shirts that boast A River Runs Through It. Feeling unbridled desire for development? When the refugees start pouring in, well… if you build it, they will come.

Now that my nostalgic re-entry to Southern California has stalled, my perspective here has changed. Spring rain is glorious, mud magical; thoughts of snowy days ahead are welcome salvation, rescue from the hard truths of climate change and population overflow. Today I raise my glass of fresh, free water in a toast I thought I’d never make:

“Here’s to a really bad winter!”