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.