The Day Before the Gray Day

The day before the gray day, there was a glimmer of hope for a beautiful sunset.

Blue sky and lots of sunshine.

There was a slight haze creeping upward, thawing ground, some humidity.

Problem was, no clouds.

Sunsets need clouds. It’s what gives them color, shape and form. There was a hint of clouds on the horizon, but possibly just enough to make the sunset, nice. That was a nice sunset.

Without clouds it’s just a bright yellow / orange object in a sea of blue. Nice, but not what I want.

I killed some time, I always do. Waiting for the right time, the right light and that right moment when everything comes together.

As the sun lowered, the haze rose, the clouds crept eastward.

A short window of opportunity before the light changed.

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The haze was rising, on the horizon, thin clouds. Sunset color killers both.

The haze was rising, on the horizon, thin clouds. Sunset color killers both.

By now I knew the sunset was going to be, nice. I poked around, moved around, uninspiring at best.

While waiting, I kill some time by wandering the archery range. I always find at least one. Most of the time, you don't see this much of one sticking out of the ground.

While waiting, I kill some time by wandering the archery range. I always find at least one. Most of the time, you don’t see this much of one sticking out of the ground.

Little Dickie likes his selfies.

Little Dickie likes his selfies.

The moment came, I took a shot, then another.

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Then I left.