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My cold Ford pick-up truck on snow covered road somewhere deep in the Montana hinterland. Here, south of Cleveland, Montana, I was many, many miles from another person. Just another day in paradise. → License Photo

Winter in Montana isn’t for the feint of heart. As I write this at 6:45 AM it is officially —22° Fahrenheit here in Havre, Montana. Relatively speaking though, that’s warm, because it is also —29° in Livingston, —35° in Cut Bank, and a fun-filled —44° in Butte.

Think back a couple of weeks ago when two inches of snow and 10° (above zero) weather ground cities like Washington D.C. and Atlanta to a halt. And this was the story that lead the news. Schools closed, people stocked up on supplies, and a cold, collective scream could be heard cascading across much of the southern United States.

Here in Montana days like this aren’t especially noteworthy. Schools don’t close, everyone still goes to work, and no one really makes much of a fuss. That’s one of the differences between Montana and everywhere else. Here winter isn’t a big deal.

In fact, weather like this is cherished by some. Some wear it as a badge of honor. Others see it another way: “It helps clear the tourists out.”

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