Kudos to The Nature Conservancy

Having recently returned to the Wasatch Front, after growing up here and then moving away for so many years, I have become acutely aware of at least two things:  first, that I did not take nearly enough advantage of the beauties and opportunities of this place while growing up; and second, how much it has changed, fueled by ever growing  crowds, powerful developers, and other forces which place those beauties in constant danger.

How thrilled I was, then, to discover the Nature Conservancy at work within site of my home, out on the shores of the Great Salt Lake.  They have purchased a large preserve in West Layton, and we took the family for a stroll two weeks ago to enjoy the board walk out among the wetlands. 

Here is Aldy, walking by Binocular (not a recommended practice) along the mile-long board walk.  I don't know what it is about kids and board walks, but there is an undisputed attraction that makes a stroll so much more exciting.

The grasses were still in their finest winter shade of amber, and shone brightly in the evening sun.

Unique viewing platforms along the way (pics at the end of this post) provided vistas of wetlands with Salt Lake City and the Wasatch Front as a backdrop.

Above is the view of my hometown, Bountiful, from one of those platforms.  If you look at the left side of the photo, about mid-way up, you will see an empty foothill, with houses just to the right.  Our house sits in that group of homes, and has wonderful, though distant, views of the lake and these wetlands.  

Even without any wildlife, a winter evening walk here is a joy, with the mountains lit up in the evening sun.  (I know, I know, you are saying to yourself "Winter? Why does he keep saying Winter? Isn't it April?" Well, in the last week of March and the first week of April, Alta ski resort reported 143 inches -- fourteen feet!-- of new snow. I am beginning to think Spring is just a nice fairy tale we tell our kids to make them feel better. . . )

The photo above is Kath and the kids walking the board walk under a full moon, just as the sun was setting. We stayed well past sunset, which was so worth it, because it was then . . .

that the Sand Hill Cranes flew in.  These are magical birds, and I will never forget my first encounter with them (thank you Steve and Heidi!).  Their loud honking is the sound of dinosaurs and dark forests, of vast expanses and ages without a human being in sight.  At sunset, it will take you away.

How grateful I am for those who work against all odds to preserve little pieces of magic amidst the tide of human creation. What a great Sunday evening.