June 10th has a habit of showing up damp. Back in 2006, there was rain on the window at Break Espresso, a cinnamon roll, and thirty-five dollars left to stretch into a week of groceries. By 2011, the Clark Fork was threatening Broadway and the ark planning had begun in earnest, two rabbits spotted on the TNR as apparent confirmation from the universe. In 2012, a blizzard at 7,000 feet ended another attempt at a goal that just wouldn't cooperate, though a noon date waiting at the bottom softened the shivering descent considerably.
Not every June 10th was waterlogged, though. In 2007, beargrass was blooming at Lindbergh Lake and a trail called Glacier Slough was delivering elk sightings and wildflowers. By 2023, trails at Phipps Park in Billings offered a rare quiet moment during a difficult visit, the mesa waiting up top like it always had. And just last year, Pipestone delivered old mining homesteads stumbled upon mid-wrong-turn, which is honestly the best way to find anything.
In between, there were quieter moments. A 2004 nudge toward cutting through political noise. A 2013 sunset watched alone, and the honest admission that sharing beauty matters as much as finding it. A 2020 Ratt lyric doing the talking. A 2021 moment from Copper City. And this year, a stingray through aquarium glass and a downhill run at Silver Mountain as quiet proof that gratitude and forward motion are basically the same thing.
Twenty-one years of June 10ths, and the thread running through all of them is pretty simple... get outside, find something worth seeing, and if possible, someone to tell about it.