North. A compass point. A star that guides. The truest of true. The magnetic pull toward which we orient ourselves in our physical space, in our emotional space.
And around here, it’s the signpost to which so many of our thoughts are tethered. If you’ve read Our Story, you know that our minds are set on moving north to Montana someday.
There’s no telling how often our unspoken thoughts turn northward to imagine how life will look there. How it all looks right now, in these in-between days (and months and years) between now and that day when what we’ve been planning becomes something real.
For now, we think of a wraparound porch on a cabin that hasn’t yet been built. A meadow up the hill where elk will wander through. A path down to a cool stream with a name we don’t know yet. There are trout in it, though, and the shadows of trees reflect on its ever-moving surface. A red canoe turned upside down on the banks, waiting. The scent of woodsmoke in the air.
Does it sound romantic? Sure. But we know the hard work that stretches between the mileposts of Now and Then, and we look forward to the hard work it will take to get there. It’s all part and parcel of the dream.
The important things, they take hold and don’t let go. And the words that matter linger on.
We like to think that we’d have the blessing of the people whose words we print onto the things we make, and that they’d want us to save a seat next to a campfire for them. And so maybe we will. We’ll save one for you, too, if you want.
Under that vast sky, on our little piece of borrowed ground. All of it held in place by the pull of the moon and the counterweights of history and future. Circled around a fire that rests on the surface of all that’s gone before.
And under the light of the North Star.