Contentment with Limited Perspective?

How does it make you feel when you know you can't see the whole, big picture? Being "limited" is a bad thing, right? I can only make an informed decision if I have all the facts! But we cannot possess all the information that exists. We may think we know it all, but our minds are distinctly finite.

Open Sails on the Sound

These limited perspectives were photographed through the stationary binoculars at the Nisqually Wildlife Refuge.

Far-off Bridge

Top o' the Mountain

More of the Mountain

Although the size of the viewing field is small, the magnification is great -- better than my camera's zoom, and much better than the naked eye.










Across the top quarter of this photo, you can see a portion of the Narrows Bridge. That's a good ten miles from where I stood.













And then there's Mount Rainier. Here you see part of the summit. Distance, about 40 miles as the crow flies.














This pic of The Mountain reminds me of photos taken from the windows of spacecraft, looking back at Earth.







I had fun playing with my toys, both in shooting these photos and cropping them later. Taking advantage of limited perspective, if you will. The narrow view (no pun intended) lends itself to a different kind of contemplation. Maybe it's good to be reminded of our limitations.

Paul noted something like this --

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I shall know fully just as I also have been fully known.

One day, we will know all about everything. One day, we will understand. One day, all will be revealed. Until then, I can trust God who fully knows, completely understands, and whose will is being accomplished. He's looking out for my very best interests, and He sees the minute details as well as the really big picture.

"For I know the plans that I have for you," declares the Lord, "Plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope."

We don't get it all now, but it's okay. Might as well make the most of this and enjoy what we've got!

Spur of the Moment (or, Before the Lawn is Mowed)

Our yard doesn't always look like this... but when it does, it is pretty amazing. It all depends on perspective. (Click on a photo for larger image.)

Spacelion Needle

Days of Well-Spent Youth

I never considered us "weekenders". Sure, we mostly visited our cabin on summer weekends, but we owned that piece of paradise. Owned it. Every tree, every rock, every high and low tide.

My grandparents bought a derelict farm, acres of woods, and several beach lots on lower Puget Sound back in the 1950s. They fixed up the house, tried their hands at raising a steer, and cursed the deer that kept eating Gramma's roses. All my aunts and uncles had a beach lot, and a couple of my dad's cousins came along and built nice cabins there, too. If anything, it was the non-family full-time residents down the road who were "outsiders".

I spent many, many happy hours combing the beach, digging clay and making tiny pots, walking in the woods, hanging out with my cousins, eating hotcakes cooked on an outdoor griddle, and digging clams. Oh, and watching Dad and my brothers fix the tractor. There was always a project to be done, and the machinery was never ready to run immediately. For me, this place and time were idyllic. (For my brothers, perhaps not so much. The benefit of being the much younger sister.)

Many years later, after most of the property had passed out of the family, my Aunt Margret said that she hoped all of us could hold some woods and beach in our hearts where it wouldn't go away. I think this is why I crave quiet, natural places and wild flora. I'm always going back there, to where life was gentle and the silences were companionable.

Following are a few photos from the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge. I had a wonderful, quiet, spectacular day there yesterday, and I'll be going back again and again in my mind. Hope you enjoy these little glimpses of our temporary home.

Looking to Sea

Olympic Mountains

THE Mountain

Little Singer

Narrows Bridge from Nisqually