Eight years ago my wife (then GF) and I moved to the Piney Woods from Grand Junction. Anyone familiar with the place would suspect it was a difficult decision to move given Grand Junction’s abundant natural geological features and climate and they’d pretty much be spot on.
Our place in Grand Junction, hereafter referred to as “GJ”, was sufficiently accomodating. Located out by the Redlands, we had the Colorado National Monument behind us to the west and our front vista included the Grand Mesa to the east a short spell. Life, especially it’s visual expression, was good.
Now being raised in Texas, one thing I’d come to appreciate and, unfortunately, expect was sunsets. If at the end of the day I didn’t get to experience the sun slowly dropping beneath an enduring skyline, it left me a bit depressed and, I think, unsettled. At home in GJ with the towering Colorado National Monument darn near in our backyard, my visual blockage was, in a word, complete.
However, what Mother Nature takes away so often she returns and to our delight, in a kind of reverse sunset, she did for us exactly that. Looking off to the east every evening as the sun drooped low in the sky, we’d see the top of the Grand Mesa to our west absolutely light up with the day’s last glow, a brilliant reflection of the sunset that would last for all of four minutes and peak for one. Working in the yard or tittering around the house, as one of us would notice it’s arrival we’d holler out “Showtime” to the other and stand, often holding hands, and admire it’s serene glow.
That was eight years and one state ago. Needless to say, it has been missed.
Then, tonite, my almost four year old daughter and I took a walk, as is our custom every night. However, tonite we went over to the par five green’s water hazard at the top of the street and stood at dusk throwing crackers in to waiting minnows, turtles and fish.
Differing from GJ, now it was the presence of flat terrain and a tall forest that normally obscures our view of any real sunset. But, while tossing a Stoned Wheat Thin, something back to my right suddenly caught my eye, seemingly a fire raging at treetop level. I slowly turned and witnessed the burning glow of the sun having dropped below the clowds of TS Ivan to backlight a dozen longleaf pines that surrounded us. Their warm hue on their eastern side, almost incandescent, was just the reflection I’d missed for so long.
Picking up my daughter and pointing out the visual conflagration, I kissed her and said "Sweetheart, we just got to see Showtime. Let’s go tell Mommy.