Letters to the editor, Jan. 3-5, 2018
Driving safely should be a priority
Last Thursday morning Dec. 28th I was rear ended while stopped, hit by another car. In itself, it happens, however seeing it through the rear mirror, seeing it coming, being trapped by the stopped cars ahead, is not an experience I wish to repeat nor wish on any one. The helplessness, the inability to avoid, not even to save yourself is flashing through you like a physical blow that became a reality a split second later. I was riding a new SUV that gave some protection, but the saving grace was bracing my self from having my head snap back unprotected. In the summer I ride a motorcycle, that would have been certain death, people riding in small cars or sport cars, the same faith. Is someone’s fatal injury what it takes to wake people up to the fact that driving is not a game, but a tool that if mishandled can be a harbinger of death. Is it worth for one to carry on his/her conscience the death of another, a mark of Cain, is it worth to text while driving, eat, talk on the phone, put make up on (Yes, that’s what I said) and then be involved in a maiming event.
Ask anyone, they will say not worth it, so why not take the pill before you are sick and imagine you saved a life that day by paying attention, by getting up earlier and make it to work on time. I need PT for who knows how long, I drive a loaner car, I am out of my element, that for some time to come, dealing with insurance on both ends. Not a great present for 2018. I feel I am yelling in the middle of a canyon, full of echoes. Thank you Highway patrol police, fire department, and rescue for being there and easing the event by being kind, thank you.
Osguthorpe farm’s cranes deserve our appreciation
With Park City’s human density increasing the feeling of wildness becomes rarer.
I am an artist. I paint birds, sometimes from life. I do so because immersing myself in wildness, embracing creatures beyond our humanness, takes me out of my self centered concerns connecting me to something immense and mysterious.
Sometimes I need a break from hiking trails, desiring a connection to different birds. With limited time, one place that provides a connection to wildness is right on Old Ranch Road. I will drive Old Ranch Road stopping specifically at the access gate of the Osguthorpe farm. I just sit in silence. I have my binoculars, sometimes my scope and camera. I listen for their rattling, trumpeting calls. I feel. I give thanks. I revive. I am inspired. I am humbled. I breathe. I scan the field. I count sandhill cranes. I watch them feed. I watch them fly.
The farmer once told me that they will walk right up to him while he is working.
I particularly do this in the fall when the sandhill cranes from around the county stage. There can be upwards of 30. The adults with juveniles from that year are preparing for their fall migration to Bosque del Apache in New Mexico. To see these magnificent, ancient birds gather, feed and prepare puts all of life in perspective.
I am so thankful Osguthorpe’s are willing to continue to work this area, saving it from development. These are our cranes — they nest at Swaner, near Promontory, Jeremy — and we owe them space to continue their ancient process of migration, return, raise young, migrate then return — to bring beauty, hope, trust and inspiration to our lives.
“How a neighborhood grows should be a transparent process. If a plan spelled out how a community will grow, then the development process would have fewer surprises.”