Basically, I’m a morning person. I love being outdoors early, attending to my plants, pruning, watering and admiring the landscape at 5 AM. If you aren’t aware of life at that early hour, I can assure you it’s incredibly quiet at daybreak, right up until the birds begin to awaken all at once! All manner of chirping creates a symphony of sorts that I have come to enjoy as well.
There’s an awakening from so many sources all around at this time of day. I see the landscape in all its glory and this acknowledgement rewards me with even the smallest of inhabitants beginning their day alongside mine.
I thrive at sunrise.
Recently, I happened to be awake a bit later than usual for me, and was met with a beautiful sight that I had forgotten I loved equally as much…sunset.
Right there in the sky, nearing the earth's horizon, I saw a blood orange glow that painted the blue sky a lovely blend of pastel peach and purple.
The sun had begun its descent in the west, after being on display all day and I found this to be a magnificent image.
My mind flooded back to the memories of a time when I was able to stay awake long enough to be a witness to sunsets most evenings. Youthful memories are always the sweetest.
Here’s some of those memories that were the fondest for me.
Living on the eastern end of Long Island that ran parallel to the Long Island Sound, I was given many opportunities to gaze at the sunsets.
As if on cue, folks in my small beach community would gather at the “overlook” after consulting the farmers almanac's daily statistics for each day indicating the exact time of the “event”.
We gathered 80 feet above the beach to watch the sun go down. The overlook was a platform that jutted out from the dunes and was built and maintained by the community. It was a very much appreciated viewing station for the entirety of the long stretch of beach that was visible from WildWood State Park to the far reaching borders of Baiting Hollow, NY.
As we congregated, there were greetings and acknowledgements from neighbors regarding the day’s activities, sometimes we’d even share a ceremonial glass of wine to toast an anniversary or birthday before the day was done.
Then, on cue, we’d turn toward the sun descending and remain silently vigil until the last vestiges of that orange globe in the sky dipped quietly beyond the horizon before it was gone.
One moment you saw the sun at the horizon's edge and then…blink… the day was done…IF you blinked, you missed it. It was such a fun game that we all played every night.
I realized that I had an equal fondness for both times of day break into night that begged to be acknowledged on occasion.
This display was a good reminder about those subtleties that can often go unnoticed every day.
I’m not so sure I'll be able to hold out for the sunsets this summer going forward, that’s just the way it is. Maybe a nap or a cup of coffee later in the day will help occasionally to allow me to engage in the wonders of that time of day once in a while.
For now, I’ll revel in the ecstasies of the morning gifts and simply hold onto those memories of my younger years witnessing days end. This symbolism, those reminders of the cycles of life are, after all, kinder and gentler to acknowledge.
Pat Larsen is a syndicated columnist, author and director of the program, Aging with Grace…growing wiser as we age. She lives in Greene County, NY with her husband and pup, Lily. Please feel free to contact Pat to chat…# 518-275-8686.
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