As November rolls in across the Hi-Line, the last of the golden leaves swirl down Main Street, the fields fall quiet, and there’s a noticeable shift in the rhythm of life. The rush of harvest has slowed, and even the wind seems to take a breath. It’s the time of year when Montanans start turning inward—toward family, home, and the small things that hold us steady when the world moves too fast.
In a small town like Big Sandy, gratitude doesn’t come wrapped in ribbons or carved into fancy centerpieces. It shows up quietly, in everyday moments. It’s the neighbor who plows your driveway before you...