Stansbury Island

My husband, a scout master, heard about Stansbury Island 

(the second biggest island of the Great Salt Lake) 

and wondered if it might be a good place to camp or hike. 

Spontaneously, we decided to drive out there this afternoon.

It's definitely not as nice, maintained, or developed as Antelope Island. 

Plus, Antelope Island has buffalo. 

We were joking and calling the cows on Stansbury Island "Stansbury buffalo."

They are the only "wild life" we encountered. Here's one pictured below.

The advantage of Stansbury Island is you don't have to pay to drive onto it.

The disadvantages are abundant: the road is not paved or maintained, there is a ton of litter,

there is only one outhouse at the overlook at the end of the road (bring your own toilet paper), 

and there are no picnic tables, developed beaches, pavilions, or anything like that.

That's because it's not a state park. 

Most of the land is privately owned, so there are no trespassing signs everywhere, 

including near interesting rock formations that you can't even approach without trespassing.

The only real destination is the overlook. 

I took the rest of the pictures that follow while at that overlook.

The ground almost looks covered in snow, but it's just white sand.

On Instagram, the pictures I show were taken from the road in the middle of nowhere, 

where Google said, "You've arrived." If you know me, you can follow me @debrog5.

If you want to really experience an island of the Great Salt Lake,

I suggest skipping Stansbury and driving up to Antelope Island.

Even so, this is a place I'd never been. 

I like the pictures I took, though I did crop out some unsightly stuff.

My guess is the sunsets here are often gorgeous.

We were mostly in the car, so we got through quite a bit of our book on cd. 

It was worth the adventure.

Perspective Matters

This morning, as I drove toward the other side of the valley, I noticed the murky distance. 

The buildings downtown were hardly visible. 

I took this after our outing. The skyline looked even murkier earlier today.

A while later at the garden, from the other side of the valley, I looked toward home. I thought the sky was clear and sunny where I live.
I was surprised to see that though the haze looked brighter, it was still hazy. 

It made me think about perspective. 

I thought I was leaving blue skies and descending into the murk,
when really, both sides of the valley were more alike than different.

Looking toward home. We live in the distant middle of the low clouds.

While at the garden, I also looked at the glass exhibit in the visitor center. 

I was trying to capture what I saw in one particular piece. 

The following three pictures are of that same creation. 

Yes, they are spirals, which caught my attention because I love spirals. 

Unlike my phone camera, my eyes were able to focus on the way the sun was shining through the outside windows and into the colorful glass. My eyes could filter out everything else that was not this work of art. The camera is obviously less selective.

Perspective matters.

That led me to thinking about the phrase, "Perception is reality."

Each of the pictures above was taken by me, with my phone camera, and around the same time.

They're all "true" pictures of the same thing, but they also look different.

No wonder it's so difficult to see "eye to eye." We can see the same things, but see them distinctly. Each viewpoint is true from our individual perspective. 

We can't read people's minds. We don't know people's motivations. 

We all go through private traumas and triumphs. 

I can accept that we all have unique realities. 

I don't expect people to believe or disbelieve like me or to feel what I feel. 

Even so, sometimes I wish I could share the beauty and joy and truth that I experience. 

It is wonderful to feel truly, deeply understood. Shared experience does that to some extent, but it takes accumulative and successive moments to feel truly known. It is easy to isolate ourselves, to stay home, to have our only contact be through technological devices which can distort reality more than eyes, ears, noses, and hands. Listening to other people's perspectives is helpful. 

Being together, face to face and hands to hands, matters. 

My guess is if we did that more often, 

we'd be surprised to discover we're all more alike than different.

Tree 2

At Wheeler Farm, there's a big, gnarly old tree down the hill just when you pass over the Cottonwood Creek northern spillway bridge on the south side. I've frequently seen people taking pictures of their children climbing over the bumpy, twisted horizontal branches. Yesterday morning, I approached the tree from the south, where the sun was shining. That side doesn't have as many photogenic places, but I took a picture anyway.

I am frequently too much in my head, so getting out into nature and focusing on something other than my own thoughts is rejuvenating.