Montana Rose


How did Montana Rose get its name?  I know there is someone out there wondering.  At least I would be. I mean, I don’t live in Montana (yet) and my name isn’t Montana Rose. So, why Montana Rose?  Simply put…it’s just everything that is me.  Cliché, I know.

When I was trying to think of a name, I was going through all these names that I thought described me.  Said something to me.  Then one of my friends asked me about one I had sent to him for review.  His question, “Is there a symbolic meaning or do you just like the name?”  Answer was…neither.  I was just running out of ideas at that point and I was getting frustrated that every one I thought was the one…was taken. 

For reasons unbeknownst to me, his words really just stuck like tumbleweed in my spurs. I began thinking that maybe I was going about this all wrong.  Maybe this was the reason why I couldn’t find the right name. Maybe I was looking too hard for a symbolic meaning.  Or maybe I just really wanted one that didn’t make me want to beat myself every time I heard it.  Nothing like picking a name  and it becoming the most obnoxiously annoying thing you’ve ever heard.   Lesson learned I tell ya.

As I tried to focus on my “actually pays the bills” job, my mind just kept running wild and then it came to me.  “Montana Rose Photography”. 

Montana is one of those things that I just continuously come back to.

Sitting on an old wooden porch overlooking acres and acres of ranch land riddled with horses and cattle.  A wood post and barbed wire fence lining the property line.  Another few acres just beyond the fence padding the way to the base of the mountains with their snow cap tops touching that big blue Montana sky.  My cowboy by my side spitting his dip in the grass as our kids run wild, playing in the yard.  All five of us stopping just as the sun hits its noon post and watching the wild horses go running through that empty quadrant of land that separates ours from theirs.  The head mustang stopping to stare at us staring at him and then giving a slight toss of acceptance with his head before he rejoins his herd.  Mind you this is nothing that I’ve thought about at ALL.  Montana’s just always there.

Roses…roses are just roses.  A cliché symbol of love and passion and hope.  A flower so many like and just as many hate.  Still, one everyone knows.  The kind of flower that I wish I was maybe.  I’ve always thought of myself as more of wildflower…though, I think I probably qualify more as a wallflower.  Either way, I might as be a beautiful one and those are two of the most beautiful things I can think of, Montana and roses.  So was born Montana Rose.

Not some mind-blowing story, I’m sure, but alas that is how Montana Rose Photography came to be.  It just felt right without doubt and without question.  That has got to be some kind of sign and I can’t wait to see where it leads. 

Thank you for reading my post. Have a beautiful tomorrow.  Live, laugh, love, and let it ride.

Montana Rose Photography

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