Ellyn
My eyes widen to take in the spectacular view of Joel’s Montana residence. The slanting roof, charred wood lattices, and expansive windows, all set against the backdrop of the snow-covered landscape and mountains, is absolutely breathtaking.
“If I owned a place like this I would never leave,” I tell Joe as he holds the door of the truck he’s rented open for me.
Grasping his proffered hand to exit the truck, I’m still unable to take my eyes off of the beauty before me.
“I’m always tempted to stay whenever I come up here,” Joel says.
“How long have you owned this place?” I ask, turning to him.
“Gerry and I bought it about ten years ago. We knew each other through horse ranching. He moved out here to Montana to take over his parents’ ranch once his kids got older. Most of the year we rent it out to visitors. He always brings his family out here for Thanksgiving, while I get the two weeks before Christmas.”
I turn to Joel, squinting.
“How come you don’t come on Christmas?”
His gaze runs over the scenery before us, taking in the residence, the white-dusted pine trees, and the mountain peaks before he turns back to me.
“This place is amazing, but it always felt right to celebrate Christmas with my family at home. In the house we live and work and gather throughout the year.”
He gives me a sheepish look.
“Cheesy, right?”
I step into his body’s warmth, the tips of our fingers intertwined, and angle my face toward him. He drops a kiss to my lips.
I love you.
A sigh passes my lips, but I don’t utter the words. Eventually, I will, but I can’t just yet. A fear I don’t quite understand clenches my vocal cords, preventing me from being fully honest about my feelings.
“This will be a great place to get some pictures and videos for my social media pages,” I say once we separate ourselves from one another.
I’ve brought quite a few pieces of clothing and accessories that brands have sent me to feature in my videos or on my social media pages.
“From the house we can see both the sunrise and sunset,” Joel tells me as he collects our bags out of the back of the truck.
After grabbing a couple of the smaller bags and some of the groceries we stopped at the store to pick up, I follow. Though this originally was going to be a weekend trip, we decided to tack on a few days.
We’ve arrived on a Wednesday, instead of a Friday evening.
“I’m one hell of a photographer, too,” Joel says, glancing over his shoulder as he enters the residence.
“I don’t believe you,” I tease.
He looks at me affronted. “With three daughters, a Gen Z grandson, and grandchildren from Gen … whatever their generation will be called, I’ve had to learn how to take spectacular photos,” he says in a mock haughty voice.
I continue to tease him about his supposed photographic skills as we heel-toe our snow boots off and place our outerwear in the mudroom before entering the rest of the home.
The beauty of the space continues to take my breath away. I insist on us putting the groceries away before Joel gives me a tour of the house.
Once that task is complete, he ushers me from room to room, showing off the plaster ceilings made to mimic the snow drifts that can be seen surrounding the residence via the full-height windows, pale granite flooring for the main living spaces decorated by an ash grey luxury couch, ivory rug that flows into the dining area complete with a wooden dining table that seats at least ten people.
The midnight-blue chairs surrounding the table blend nicely with the blue-black cylindrical wall that separates the dining area from the kitchen.
It feels as if a piece of the surrounding nature was brought inside, barricading us from the harsh winter temperatures but also keeping us enveloped in our natural surroundings.
And this was only the first floor. There’s still a partially underground level as well as an upstairs where three out of the five bedrooms reside.
