The Montana mountain air was cool and fresh, and as I breathed it in, something inside of me awakened: evasive like magic or childhood. I pulled on my rain boots and walked quickly to keep up with my daughters, who had already raced off of the porch and through the mud to the purple sky in front of us. Alpenglow was a word I never heard before my trip to Dancing Spirit Ranch, but it is one I won’t soon forget. As the sun sets, mountains exposed to the direct sunlight undergo an optical phenomenon and assume a color wheel of orange, yellow, and finally violet, creating an illusion of the air being tangible enough to reach out and grab a handful of it. In the northwest corner of Montana, at the edge of the mountain time zone, it was half-past eight in the evening in the middle of March …
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