74 Sunsets
Tom Lea, American muralist, illustrator, artist, war correspondent, novelist, historian, and all-around over-achiever, chose to live with his wife on the eastern slope of the Franklin mountains near El Paso, Texas. “It is on the sunrise side, not the sunset side,” he said. “It is the side to see the day that is coming, not the day that is gone.” While I understand Tom Lea’s point of view, I’m clearly more of a see the day that is gone kind of girl. These days I spend far too much time checking what seem to be absurd current events in Snopes, only to find out that absurd has become the new norm. A vivid reminder that we’ve made it through another day is something I want to hold onto.
My stay in Michigan has lasted 74 days—which means I’ve had 74 opportunities to watch the sun set over the fourth largest freshwater lake in the world. The cottage is perched high on a sand dune on Lake Michigan’s eastern shore. Milwaukee, eighty-three miles on the other side, is beyond the horizon. From the window, I’ve got an unobstructed view of all that water. When the sun drops, the colors explode into a palette that would make Bob Ross weep.
Every evening I’m reminded that nothing—even something as repetitive as the sun setting—is static. When I first arrived, sunset came around 9:30; yesterday, it set at 7:40. And in July, the sun dropped in the far right of my viewing area. Now it’s to the far left. Some days, the sunset hides behind clouds. But when it shows off, the sky becomes a canvas filled with fiery oranges, deep reds, soft pinks, and warm purples. There are days, I’ll admit, when rather than staring out the window waiting for the ball to drop, I’m caught up doing something else. Then an inadvertent look up reveals the sunset as the best kind of surprise.
Last night was my last Lake Michigan sunset. Back in Texas, there’s no sunset view outside my window. Granted, I don’t have to walk far to see it, but watching it drop beyond a highway, with evening traffic noise humming in the background, isn’t quite the same. But on the days when I need to celebrate making it through another day, the walk will be well worth it.
Lagniappe:
So you don’t think I’m alone in my love of a west Michigan sunset . . .
A video I shot of an impromptu sunset dance party. Despite the amateur camera work, the passion still shines through.
A link to Josh & Jase viewing a Grand Haven sunset. Josh & Jase are two Brits who’ve grown wildly popular documenting their first impressions as they travel the United States. The two of them turning up in Grand Haven during this summer’s Coast Guard Festival created quite the frenzy.
And a sample of the view from my window:
Plus, extra special lagniappe: a shot of my dog Jeb basking in the sunset’s glow. Enjoy!
A note about the photos: unless captioned otherwise, every image in this newsletter is my own. Feel free to share with credit and a link back — for anything else, just ask.
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