April in Montana is a negotiation.
The winter doesn't leave cleanly. It argues. It gives you a week of something that feels like spring — the ground softening, the mountains doing their first tentative green at the lower elevations, the sky going that particular washed blue that makes you want to be outside for no practical reason — and then it snows again. Not a serious snow. A reminder snow. Winter saying, I'm still in this conversation.
Hope finds this fascinating. She stands at the window every morning and delivers a verdict on the weather with the authority of someone whose opinion should matter more than it currently does in the meteorological community.
Gerald stands beside her. Also watching. Also serious about it.
