6 February 2026
“Is Gardiner, Montana… still the same?”
That’s the question Dave Dondero presents in a little waltzy number from back in 2010.
The album: Number Zero with a Bullet.
The song: “It’s Peaceful Here.”
The scene: A panorama sprawling, falling, and crawling. From downtown Laramie, where Wyatt Earp sells him a beer, to a pack trip in Yellowstone.
A dance of railroad tracks, buffalo, mountains, Western Tanagers, wolves, and Old Faithful where “the seniors all stare.”
Then, suddenly, Gardiner, Montana, waltzes into the song.
Is it still the same? he asks, meaning whatever it means for him, looking back, years later.
To Dave, Gardiner is a place where the “stars are so close and the moon is sincere.”
A place where life rolls right along, peaceful most of the year, full of elk, wind, and “mountains of glory.”
A place, he admits, that he loves in the rain.
And it’s a weighty image: Gardiner, Montana / in the rain.
It’s a line that stopped me the first time I heard the song.
Because yes, Gardiner is a special place in my life and heart and writing, and it is an easy place to love. Even in the rain, or maybe especially in the rain.
The big bridge. The river. The bars. All the people passing through—and the handful of people who never leave.
I’ll never forget driving into Gardiner for the first time back in 2010, still in college, checking in for my big summer, working as a housekeeper in the park. (Well before I ever knew I’d be living in Montana years later.)
I was young, full of Kerouac and Bob Dylan. On the road. In the mountains. Living the life I’d dreamed of in school, sitting in my apartment back in Durant, Oklahoma, writing imaginary love letters for far-away places.
Gardiner represented something back then. Still does.
It was the best welcome wagon. A kind of stage. A door, maybe.
I’m not sure exactly, but that feeling of arriving at something new. Gardiner carries that for me.
Has it changed? In some ways, yes. But not in any big, character kind of way.
Its heart remains. Whatever it is when no one’s looking, that’s what matters.
Restaurants and bars will always come and go. And so will the people.
Dave’s right. It is peaceful there, most of the year.
Never mind the silly summers, stacked with tourists. Never mind the bad luck that often plagues tiny towns on the way to pretty places.
Most of the year, and in most of my heart, Gardiner, Montana, is still the same.
And yes, I love it in the rain, too, Dave.
Writing from Here 