When I lived on the hill in Manchester, I often trotted down the lane to a spot where I could catch the sunset. It was a unique setting, the highest point in the city, one overlooking the Monadnock mountains to the west, a vantage long since obliterated by new housing. At the time, though, it gave me an opportunity to savor the phenomenon of shifting light between the closing day and approaching night.

A dazzling sunset, as I concluded, depends on a variety of chance interactions. Clouds are important, but they need to open to the setting sun, usually from beneath. It’s all quite fleeting,  maybe five minutes in all. And it means nothing. Forget interpretations. This is as ephemeral and spectacular as life gets. If you’re not there, you missed it.

Since moving to Dover, I rarely catch this. We just don’t have that view to our west, and I’m no longer living on a summit. Now that I have a camera, I rarely have the opportunities I had then.

Returning from a weekend retreat, though, as I crossed the Bellamy Reservoir, I had to stop and snap a picture. Here’s what I saw maybe a dozen minutes before its full glory.