Ok, that was not true. It did, and from what I hear (and saw on my drive home from work) it was really fantastic. Unfortunately my brain cells were being applied elsewhere.

Overcast, then not overcast. Blazing brightness, then dim dullness. Low cloud cover being swiftly carried by the wind continually veils, then unveils the sun. Like a herd of slowly moving bison (which, by the way, ought to be a familiar scene to almost everyone living in urban America) the clouds wander across the sky. Though already nestling down in the trees, the sun remains too bright to look at directly. It brings to life the edges of the clouds (which are almost all shaped like the clouds in the background of your favorite Mario game).

Hmm… maybe they aren’t slowly moving bison; maybe the clouds are more like ents traveling to their ent council – large creatures slowly making their way to determine whether or not they ought to involve themselves in the war that is looming upon them. But, I suppose that’s beside the point.

Even after the sun has completely gone down the more distant clouds are still fulgent like Christmas trees, their dark centers highlighting their softly lit edges. They probably bear some resemblance to your favorite nightlight, providing enough light to assure you of the absence (or presence?) of any monsters while remaining unobtrusive enough to allow you to drift off into sleep.

The sound of the green wind chimes in the trees is prominent now, that won’t last long though. In a few months those chimes will turn yellow, then brown, then they’ll fall to the ground, leaving the trees naked. That’s an awkward word to end on. Naked.

So I was at multiple birthday parties while the sun was setting (I know, crazy right) – but it looked so fantastic that I had to take a picture with my phone.

A picture is worth a thousand words – or so the adage goes.

While I didn’t watch the sunset, next time I find myself driving after it has done so, I’ll be able to see better!

According to my calculations the sun is going to set in about 50 minutes. That’s all fine and dandy, except for the fact Joshua intends on setting in about 20 minutes (it’s true, I’ve just referred to myself in the 3rd person – forgive me). Those of you who know the premise of this blog will immediately see the problem which arises from these two premises, viz. I will not be writing about the sunset this evening. In the mean time, I wish you (and myself) the best of sleep.

Good night.

As a post script, my bed (pictured above) only looks that nice when 1) out of town family members take over my room and consequently my bed or 2) it decides to pose for a rare photo op (this instance being caused by a combination of both circumstances).

It was a dark and stormy night… okay, not yet it isn’t. But there’s evidence of a storm brewing this evening. The dark entity filling up the sky is clearly the main purveyor of that postulation. It creates a dark opaque background. The sun has nearly drilled a whole through this thick wall but its efforts to shine through are foiled by a smaller set of clouds willing to offer themselves as patches to the wall. None the less, above this small set of clouds there are rays producing quite the dazzling effect on what would otherwise be more small dark entities. It is my opinion that the dark wall is a cousin (perhaps 2nd or 3rd) of the Black Thing through which Charles Wallace, Meg and Calvin had to pass on their way to Camazotz. That darkness of which It was an extension.

Riding on the wings of the wind, this relative of that darkness is closing the distance between me and it. But that same wind has also moved along the clouds that are covering the sun – effectively giving the sun some more breathing room.

Illuminated by the sun these clouds are seeking to put themselves forward as some sort of gaseous bodies in some distant but visible corner of the universe (last I checked, scientists had determined that the universe has taken on a shape similar to that of a cardboard box – a big one that is, kind of like the boxes that refrigerators come in). As time has passed these clouds have moved along, now taking on a form similar to Lot-O’-Huggin-Bear (I’d be willing to be ten to one that they even smell like strawberries too).

This evening can be summed up in two words – ornately overcast.

Yet another night has passed in which I was not able to watch the sun set. As to what I was doing, it will suffice to say that I spent some of my hard earned dollars to buy clothes… after a whole day of shopping with sisters and mother, I finally caved in at the Kohl’s clearance racks.

This is a world full of multiple realms. Right in the center is the pit of the abyss. If one exits the pit of the abyss… which is obviously impossible, but just for arguments sake (i.e. to continue on this topological journey); if one exits the pit of the abyss and makes an immediate left one will enter the foothills of a large mountain range which culminates in the mountain. One may be familiar with this mountain, it’s the mountain where all the important stuff happens – where powerful rings are forged, where powerful rings are destroyed, where the law was laid down.

Upon exiting the abyss – which is obviously impossible, as noted above – were one to continue heading north (side note: just in case one ever finds oneself in an abyss, the path out of the abyss is always north) one would enter what is affectionately called the bad side of town. It’s that moderately eerie place that’s always dimly lit. The place where, when one visits (if one chooses to visit), one may swear that one can hear ghostly strings providing a soundtrack for ones every move (or maybe they’re providing the soundtrack for the gunshots one may imagine oneself to have heard?) – yeah, it would be wise to avoid that place.

And thus ends my account of two locations on the map of the fantasy world produced by the sunset this evening.

Am I late? Have I missed it? I was asking myself as I pulled into the park. No, I can’t have missed it, it’s only 8:20 p.m. and the last sunset I watched happened around 8:43 p.m. But the sky seems too dull for the sun to still be out.

As I drove down the gravel driveway to my bench I looked to the west, somewhat dismayed. The sky had that the-sun-just-set-and-you-missed-it-so-come-back-next-time-sucker sort of look (you know what I’m talking about). The further on I drove the more disheartened I became. It looks like there won’t be any sunset tonight, I thought to myself.

Then shortly after I passed my bench – I actually own it, the city thinks it’s their bench, they call it “public property,” but they’re wrong – I was taken aback by this ginormous light one quarter of the way concealed by the large tree which the sun sets by. That isn’t the sun I’ve seen before!? Is it? I mean, I’ve watched the sun set, but this object wasn’t the sun, it was some huge star taking the suns place this evening (I heard that the sun called in sick this morning, but that is just rumor).

Not only was this star much bigger than the sun, but it also took the wrong course – it was off by about 5 or so inches. You see (as I mentioned before) the sun sets just to the right of the large tree straight in front of me. I know that, hence I was able to discern the blunder that this fellow made when he decided to set right over the tree – he must be an amateur. But amateur or no, he sure did a nice job filling in for the sun this evening.

I knew it was going to happen eventually. I missed last nights sunset. I was spending some time with some guys from church and thought it would be rude for me to duck out for 30 or so minutes to watch the sunset right in the middle of our meeting.

What’s more, I don’t plan on staying up to watch this evenings sunset either, work commences pre-sunrise tomorrow and I’m already running low on sleep, so for the sake of my coworkers I’m taking tonight off of sunset watching.

Lastly, I’m more than likely going to miss tomorrows sunset – due to another church function. That being said, I hope to get back into the swing of things on Thursday evening.

I’m afraid I wasn’t actually able to watch the sun set this evening. You see, I had just taken part in a modern day protestant reformation – my family and I were at a Catholic festival, and right before the evening mass we, and every other protestant at this shindig, booked it.

We were driving home while the sun was setting. I was able to catch glimpses of it – and as you can see I even snuck in a picture as well. But I was much too preoccupied to be able to write any meaningful observations on the event. As things would have it I was stuck in the middle of the back seat of our van, sandwiched between my 13 year old nephew and my 12 year old niece. Fun times, let me tell you.

I should have seen it coming; on the way to the festival they discovered that they could cause my arm to bend by swiftly bringing the point of their elbows into contact with my anticubital (using something of a chopping motion). While unpleasant, it was only a mere foreshadowing of the trials which I would have to undergo on the ride home.

Let me give you two instances (beyond the attempts at destroying my cubital).

Instance 1: For their enjoyment they each grabbed an arm of mine, upon obtaining possession of my appendages they proceeded to wave them around in the air, chanting in unison, “Hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho…” You get the idea. Then, just when I’d begin to relax the muscles, releasing any attempts at controlling my flailing arms, one of my relatives would get the idea in their head that it would be awful funny if they were to smack me in my face with my own hand. That youngling would then execute its plan with tremendous precision – leaving me to figure out why exactly I had ever allowed a teenager to take control my arm in the first place.

Instance 2: Shortly after the above scene happened, the offspring of my sister thought that it would be fun to simultaneously ram their shoulders into mine – leaving my squished, then unsquished, then squished, then unsquished, then… They were only able to pull off this feat for a short time before their coordination was lost; leaving me to be rocked back and forth between their shoves. Thankfully I was able to weather the trial like a hardened sailor on a stormy night (I’m thankful too that I escaped without getting whiplash. I’m also thankful that if, over the next few days, I find out that I did indeed get whiplash I have health insurance to cover my doctors visits). Their express purpose in this exercise was to “Hit you until your arms fall off.” Endearing.

By God’s grace I made it through this trial alive and am thus hopeful about the prospect of reporting to you on the beauty of tomorrow’s sunset.

The quiet evening has been disturbed more than once by herds of flying birds collectively making the sound of tens and tens of squeaky dog toys all being squeezed at random intervals.

Earlier my back was turned because my brow was tired of having to ruffle itself in response to the brilliant brightness of the sun. But as the sun descends down the distant horizon its brightness wanes. I can now look straight at it without squinting. The area of the sky occupied by the sun is virtually cloudless. Leaving it to beam unfettered. Its background remains more or less unchanged. The sun, however, puts on quite the display – one that a chameleon attempting to hide on a rainbow would have trouble equaling. Its glaring yellow turns to a bright orange turns to a dull orange turns to a deep redish-purple.

The whole of the sky has stopped working at its evening chores to watch. Clouds sit pinned in their seats as they solemnly observe the setting of the sun. Well, the whole far away sky sits serenely in observation; the more immediate sky is intermittently invaded by that ever present obnoxious (and loud) fleet of animal aircraft. Lest you think me rash to speak negatively of them, let me give one example of their destructive power: in a routine fly over these beasts caused the mirror like pond to temporarily take on terrain akin to that of an asteroid smattered planet – bombing away as if there was no tomorrow. I’ll tell you, these monsters have less than a little sense of propriety.

Having determined that watching a sunhide is not the same as watching a sunset I picked up the feet and moseyed on over to a local park where the horizon is more distant – thus affording myself the opportunity to actually see the sun set.

There were no pink patches this evening. Instead a whole lower portion of the sky, to the left of the setting sun, was a vibrant pink orange mixture. Its compliment marked the spot where a long cloud met the distant trees. The body of this cloud was dark grey and the sun had painted its white edges with smears of orange. This keeper of the sky served as the border between the suns colorful effects on the atmosphere and the cool blue shade which frequently acts as the roof to an enjoyable afternoon picnic.

As the sun converged with the treetops its movement became nearly perceptible with the naked eye. A short while later two small clouds, aflame in varied mixtures of purple, orange and pink, were revealed in the place that the sun had been occupying. They confirmed the completion of the sunset. This bountiful blend of colors slowly melded into a faded dark purple. The long cloud, unmoved, continued to keeps its watch.

Tonight the sun had no competitors. Oh yes, there was other scenery – clouds, trees, water and grass – but these were not vain as the clouds of yesternight, rather, they were aids allowing the sun to make its presentation all the more stunningly.

Only hints of splendor are visible – dashes of bright orange backed by beautiful baby blue, mountainous white continents lumbering slowly along, faded pink patches lining the treetops. The sun however, is not to be seen. Its beams of light are effectively intercepted by dark continents. Were it not for gaps of varying sizes in the dark continents the show being put on by the sun would be completely hidden. While the intruders are not entirely stationary, by the time they have gotten on their jolly way the show will be over. The sun will have gone down and the dashes of bright orange along with the faded pink patches will both meld into one monotonous opaque covering in front of which the white mountainous continents will lose much of their luster. I wonder if the looming intruders fully understand the ramifications their evening stroll will end up having. Of course they do, the whole reason they are even here right now is so that they can steal the spotlight (or, as it were, block the spotlight).

Time has proven my intuition true (for the most part). The vain clouds have moved; so has the sun. I hope their egos grow so big that they pop, bringing the intruders down to the dirt (actually, I’m sure my mother and her garden would like that too). In their place smaller clouds of the same sort have moved in. These ones are clearly amateurs otherwise they would have been here earlier – right next to the intruders. That or they’re incredibly early; the moons gig isn’t scheduled to start for a while longer.

A large quilted lobster has just floated over my head. No really, it’s true. Low, slow and steadily he (or was it a she?) passed silently over me. I thought that strange at first because last I checked lobsters usually travel in groups. Ah yes, here come some more. Oh, nope sorry; these are just big ink blots. And not just any old ink blots, these seem to be indecisive ink blots. You see, they clearly can’t to make up their mind as to which way they should be traveling. Some of them are quite content to follow after the lobster while others are dead set on heading in the opposite direction. And look, there goes a small one, all alone – he can’t be much older than a toddler. Shame on his mother for letting him off on his own like that!

Why, what do you know, a crab has come to join in on the fun as well. This beast is crawling forward – aren’t they supposed to walk backwards?

You’ll be pleased to know that the toddler ink blot has been gathered up by its mother, or was it eaten by the crab? Frankly, I’m not entirely sure which of those two resolutions actually took place, but either way the toddler ink blot is no longer where it was 7 minutes ago.

That crab seemed to be moving at an awful rapid pace, and I now see why. What wasn’t obvious to me before is that it was being pursued by an angry bull – and a fire breathing bull none the less. I’m sure if I were being chased by such an enemy as that I’d be booking it too.

Whether or not the crab will meet the same fate as the infant ink blot I haven’t the time to wait and see (oh and, what exactly was the fate of the toddler ink blot anyways?).

How I just love watching sunsets!

Again, I missed it. Or perhaps, to put things more accurately, it missed me. I was there; I kept my end of the deal. 8:43 post meridiem was the time of the appointment. Being a prompt person as I am, I showed up at least 10 minutes early. I grabbed my computer, grabbed my lawn chair, headed to the appointed spot in my back yard, sat, and waited. But it didn’t come.

Truth is, I knew it wouldn’t. The moment I stepped outside I knew I’d be spending my evening alone. The dim lighting of my surroundings told me so. They told of a star that wouldn’t be making any appearance this evening. Even so, I waited. It’s true, my waiting wasn’t entirely whole-hearted; I was diverted by music, Google Maps, and DeYoung, Restless, and Reformed – after all, how can one not fully avail oneself of the capabilities of wifi? – but that’s beside the point. You see, at least I was there. My partner, however, didn’t even do me the simple kindness of showing up.

Without a s**set, and heck and not even a s**hide, to observe I was left to watch the north eastern travelers. Dark gray masses slowly migrating as the wind led them. It’s a good thing they were there too, ‘cause the last thing I want to look at is a totally blank sky. But better a totally blank sky than a sky filled with evidence of an appointment breaking cosmic sized mass of fire. Ha! I’d rather watch clouds any day; I mean, who even needs the s** anyway?!

Truthfully, I’m kind of curious as to the precise definition of sunset. I mean, if the sun is no longer visible, but is still clearly lighting the sky has it truly set? Or, must the sky also be dark? What if someone is not in a location to see the distant horizon? Thus, their horizon is closer, and higher, allowing the sun to disappear whilst still giving out plenty of light (as mentioned above). Are those people even allowed to see the sunset at all? Or must they settle for an almost sunset – perhaps better described as a sunhide (behind the trees, or the house, or the whatever)? Definitions, definitions…

The sky is providing a light blue background to the motionless clouds. These clouds are smoke clouds – viz. they look like the puffs of smoke that come from my coworkers cigarettes (though I’m sure there is a more scientifically accurate name for them than “smoke clouds”). As their illuminator lowers, they darken to a faded dark bluish purple. Two planes are generating independent streams of wake across an otherwise serene sky… nature at its finest.

The dark bluish purple clouds are slowly dominating the scene; though they are not bringing with them a sense of something ominous – as is usual with most dark clouds. Nope, these are kind dark clouds. The kind that foreshadow an enjoyable evenings rest (ok, at least that’s what I’m hoping for… none of this tossing and turning business, I want real sleep!). And it is of that enjoyable rest that I now take my leave to partake of.

I’m late, the sun having already gone down over the tree line. While not all light has faded, the mass that is the sun is now gone. With it the air has cooled much. Mosquitoes are out – flying little jerks. The sky is awful pretty; purple and light pink dominating the distant tree line. A doe and a fawn are joyfully eating apples off of the crab apple tree. They don’t seem to mind me; well, at least, they didn’t seem to mind me. They’ve left now – heck, they were probably driven away by the mosquitoes – flying little jerks.

Immediately above me there are few clouds, but the… geez, I’m headed in, no more sunset watching for me (at least tonight). The flying little jerks are getting the better of me.