I was recently reminded of the cultural shift taking place in the Bitterroot Valley when, in a recent conversation with some newer residents, the term "Bitterrooter" was unrecognized. Its use was received with a quizzical look and the question, "Bitterrooter? What's that?" Good question, one that will likely lead to a series of articles, but let's try to unpack it in just this one for now, shall we?

As a kid I loved to drive the truck while my dad bucked bales and stacked the hay in our barn. He always made sure there were steps for us girls to climb onto the stack and a pile of loose hay to jump into. I remember my Grandpa Corky and how he taught me the perfect way to stack small squares.