Wisconsin PridePosted: November 22, 2009
A few weeks ago I visited Arches National Park for the first time. I stared in amazement as I watched as the evening sun set fire to the red rocks. Of all the diverse landscapes found in this state, the red rock country seems the most un-earthly to me. I imagine I could pitch a tent on a redrock cliff and live there until I was withered and gray, and still I would feel like a foreigner on its terrain.
One evening I hiked up to see Delicate Arch, the rock formation showcased on Utah license plates. As I watched the sun dance across this famous arch, I smiled at the whispered land-praises coming from the hikers surrounding me. The various accents and languages revealed how far we’d all traveled to meet on that same peak. Although I’d never seen Delicate Arch in person before, it felt over-poweringly familiar. I reasoned this connection I felt with the arch was just a result of seeing it so often on the masses of cars. Then I made a discovery. The Delicate Arch and I hold a kinship that runs deeper than cartoon sketches on license plates. Do you see it?
Check out the negative space in the heart of the arch. I’ll zoom in a little closer so you can get a better view: