On a Monochrome Sunset

I spend dozens of evening hours each year prowling the backroads, chasing the sunset. You know the one—the vibrant, glowing, purple and pink and orange sunset of postcards and prints. The. Sunset.

This afternoon, I noticed the tree pictured above and thought it would be interesting with The Sunset in the background. The contrast would (and eventually will be) thought-provoking or maybe just pretty. I drive past that tree a few times each week, but today, I saw the tree—a tree so decayed I can’t tell the species. At the time, the sky was partly cloudy and partly clear, and we all know some clouds can make the photo. So, I loosely planned to give it a try tonight. I did some recon, found a couple decent and safe parking options (the tree is along the highway), grilled supper hours earlier than usual, and busied myself until half an hour before sunset.

Except the partly cloudy, partly clear sky turned entirely, thoroughly, dismally cloudy. Not ideal, but my camera, my Anne Lamott audiobook, and I hopped in the car anyway. I live in town; I can’t always see the glorious sunsets. I made the few-minutes’ drive to the tree and, alas, it really was cloudy all the way to the horizon. Ugh. I turned off the highway, thinking to make a loop and go home, but that moody sky filled my windshield. Maybe . . .

I turned around.

I parked in the ditch, took my camera to the fence, lay in the weeds, and got to work.

I was looking for The Sunset, but today wasn’t a gorgeous sunset kind of day. I hoped but did not receive. Instead, I got a sunset that didn’t look all that different from the afternoon sky, a sunset that had had itself a day.

It wasn’t pretty. The sky was not perky and happy and smiling down at me. The sky was scowling. The sky was done with the day and just fading into night. No warm and fuzzy show for the sunset lovers. Nope. Not tonight.

But maybe tonight’s sky suits that tree. Maybe tonight’s sky suits me. Some days, certainly. Look at the tree. How is that thing still standing? The middle section is mostly gone and what’s left is rotten, but there it is, defying gravity. The tree is not a showy redbud, the highlight of our April roadsides and timber. This tree has lived its best days, but it’s still standing, having clearly survived storms that devastate delicate redbud trees. That tree could tell some stories. It’s here for a reason—maybe just to make me wonder and wander and lie on my stomach in a ditch—but there’s a reason.

It makes me think.

I hoped for and searched for a colorful sky tonight and I’ll do the same another day. Today wasn’t the day. Many days aren’t the day. Life is rude like that. Life often scowls like tonight’s sky, but there are dark-day-defying trees among us. Nobody asks to be that tree. Nobody wants to be that tree, but here we are, being that tree. Redbuds are happy and pretty and easy to love, but fragile. Redbuds brighten our days and our views, but that old tree inspires me.

You may find me lying on my stomach in the ditch or peering through the fence in a most unladylike pose the next time there’s a stunning sunset—a stunset?—since I can’t seem to control my photographing self around sunsets, but I won’t forget today’s snarly sky or its lesson.