Allwin Monson, 95, recalled walking along a country road with his mother on his grandparents’ homestead halfway between Shelby and the Sweet Grass Hills in central Montana.

“We saw a horned lark fly up then sit in the shadow of a fence post,” he said.

The horned lark sighting reminded his mother of a similar experience that filled her with homesickness in the summer after she had moved with her parents from the forests of northern Minnesota to the prairie. She then told her son how she later missed the plains of Montana while visiting the old Minnesota home.

“I don’t know why. I remembered that one day when I was in my late 80s,” Monson said. “I wrote a poem about it that I kind of like.”

Titled simply “Homestead,” his poem captures a teachable moment between mother and son along with his own love of the prairie. 

It was a tribute to the memories he has preserved in a neatly bound notebook titled “A Toole County Boyhood.” 

After his father died when he was just a year old, Monson and his mother moved in with his grandparents, where he had a wonderful boyhood riding his horse over 20 square miles of hills and abandoned homesteads.

“The part of Montana we were in ... there wasn’t a tree for 20 miles, I suppose,” he said. “My grandfather planted a grove just as soon as we got there. That got to be quite a nice thing.”

He recalled the fun of helping his grandfather stoke up the coal forge for his blacksmith shop. His mind’s eye still sees the beautiful blue strip of flowers the year his grandfather grew flax.

Monson said some people consider the isolation difficult, especially without electricity, running water or a telephone.

“I can’t remember being lonesome or bored,” he said.

Monson was surprised about how easily he reached back so many decades to write about the memories found in “A Toole County Boyhood.”

“Once I got started, I kept thinking of more and more things,” he said.

Following high school, Monson earned a bachelor’s degree at Concordia College in Minnesota, where he met and married Dorothy Nelson. He later earned a master’s degree in speech at the University of Denver.

After serving in the Naval Reserve in World War II, he and Dorothy eventually ended up back at Concordia, where he became a speech professor and head of the department and they raised a son and daughter.

 “We spent 35 years there until we retired to Kalispell,” he said.

Now a resident of Buffalo Hill Terrace, he remains very proud of Dorothy, who earned a master’s and taught special education for many years. They were married 70 years before she died in 2010.

Monson treasures memories of her as well as the many from his boyhood and later outdoor experiences hunting, fishing and hiking. He vividly recalled a hunting trip to the east side of Montana, where he and his friend ended up near a wolf pack that began howling.

“They were obviously conferring about where to go next,” he said. “That was one of the greatest experiences I had in the out of doors.”

 Still active, Monson keeps mentally fit with crossword and Sudoko puzzles and physically fit working out on machines. He also performs eye exercises that his physician pooh-poohs but he points to the results.

“I still drive ... legally,” he adds with a laugh.

Old friends may contact him by email at amonson01@centurytel.net.