when you live in a valley, the notion of horizon and the actual time of the sunset are pretty blurry, imprecise. you have to climb to the top of one of the surrounding hills or mountains to have a more authentic perception of the day's end. last night i found myself on top of mt. skinner, celebrating my roommate pete's birthday. gazing out beyond the valley below from the porch of the summit house i saw the horizon. the sun set prematurely under the cluster of thick clouds in the distance, but i can honestly say that i witnessed the sunset.
today i biked to the medows, the flat expanse of farmland that winds around the opposite side of the river and holyoke range. those pink, luminescent puddles scattered up and down its dirt roads that i pointed out last night became extreme challenges to overcome as the sun beat down on my neck. carrying my bike as i shuffled along the edge of corn crops, i forged ahead riding until the next obstacle presented itself. finally reaching the puddle-less stretch toward the airport i looked up at the summit house and thought about the chipmunk that scuttled along its base while i watched the sun set.
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