One of the many ways that people divide themselves (without resorting to a sorting hat) are whether one is a lark (getting up early for the worms) or an owl. I seem to be an owl. I have heard tell of the beauty of sunrise, but whenever I experience it I am invariably groggy and half asleep. But sunsets are a different matter. First there is that lovely twilight, then the encroaching darkness. And of course one does not get a spectacular sunset every evening, so it is more impressive when one does. I don’t remember sunsets when I lived in the Midwest, I think the West has the best.
Like this one at M’s cousin’s, with the yellow to orange colors of the setting sun.
I saw this one over the mesa when I went to visit M’s uncle recently, it started out with just a touch of pink that burst into this lovely glowing spectacle before fading away.
Sunsets can also be more subtle, with just a smear of color against the horizon.
Or like this one, with faintly pink clouds contrasting with the twilight and the lights of the neighborhood.
I captured this view from my living room (good thing the window was clean).
Here’s a recent one, without even a tinge of pink and the mountain hidden, it’s still beautiful.