In the valley that raised me and gave me my children, the old volcanic country of the Similkameen, filled with the gravel glaciers gouged out of the Okanagan to the east, the mountains are the sky, and a form of weather.
This is the crest of Puddinhead Mountain at sunbreak this morning. If you’re from the prairies, you might be forgiven for wondering what all this rock is doing in the way of the sky, but if you’re from here you know: this is the sky. And it is breathing.
To watch it, you stand on a river of stones some 350 metres deep.
To climb the mountain is to enter the sky country, the Seeahpoo, the country of sight.
I met a badger on this mountain when I was twelve years old. This is not my spirit mountain, though. That’s a little to the south, but this is close, and she is waking with the year…
…and me with her. Who on earth mis-named her Puddinhead, and why? Does anyone know?