Main Street, Roundup, Montana
It smells like photography.
No town in the American West has a better name than my wife’s home town, Roundup, Montana. The best time of our visits there was the first morning. Still stuck on East Coast time, I would wake up a couple of hours before everyone (except the donut maker at Picchioni’s IGA) and venture forth with my camera in the early morning light.
The aroma of sagebrush and pine filled the town during the night. The smell was fresh and clean and I knew I was out west. Even though I was in town, the smell of the sage reminded me how close I was to the range land of Eastern Montana. For that hour or so before everyone starting moving through the town I could photograph alone and undisturbed. When the trucks starting coming through town, the still air was disturbed and the smell of sage was lost in the exhaust.
By then it was time to stop photographing and head to Picchioni’s for fresh donuts.
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