There's just something about that late afternoon glow. Even things that aren't particularly beautiful become beautiful in the end-of-day light, as things turn to night. And it's happening so much earlier lately; it was happening even before the change — the time change — i.e., it's not just that extra hour that's costing us some daylight (I'd so much rather save daylight), but the general seasonal trend.
So, the other day — as I was standing at the kitchen sink presumably doing dishes but really just looking out the window as the sky turned the most appealing shades of orange and yellow and pink such that everything at terrestrial level was quasi-reflecting the same orange and yellow and pink (however that works) — I found myself running out the door and down the hill to catch it. To catch what?? The light. Yeah, right ...
I didn't even say 'bye to Mr. Betty; I just left. And I got caught in the dark before I was through — I ended up way down Washington Street in The Point, where I arrived just in time to catch the lights switch "on" on the bridge. It's kinda cool to be present at that precise moment. It happens every night, of course, but how often does one catch it?? How often does one try??
And then I walked home, more slowly now, on the outside looking in to the glow emitting from kitchens, living room lights, assorted sights ...
