sunset photography – Roadkill Crossing

Anatomy of a Sunset

I enjoy the progression of a sunset as much as the finale itself. I usually try to arrive well ahead of time, but I occasionally slip up. Like last Saturday, which was a busy one for us, I had settled in to watch a college football game.

I glanced out the front window, which faces north, and noticed a pinkish tinge in the broken clouds to the north. I grabbed my cameras and headed for one of my favorite sunset spots, Silver Lake in the burg of Dayton, Virginia.

A layer of clouds was slowly moving southeast, opening the western sky to the setting sun. The chances for a decent sunset seemed bright. The sun had already dropped below the rippling horizon of the Allegheny Mountains that mark the western boundary of Virginia and West Virginia.

Still, the sky was bright where the sun had disappeared. Areas north and south of that spot showed warmer colors. The shallow lake was its usual calm self, broken only by a few patches of lily pads, seaweed, and miscellaneous debris.

The reflections on the water doubled the beauty. At the south end is the old mill, which now houses a lovely quilt museum. Across the narrow country road stands an old white-washed farmstead, its barn duplicated on the quiet water.

The road turns west around an Old Order Mennonite family’s red brick home, and continues up the hill to another farm, where it bends due north across the ridge. The staggared trees along its edge provide a perspective of depth to each photo.

The road disappears over the hill and behind the old white farmhouse at the lake’s northwest corner. The house and outbuildings, all mirrored on the water, serve as icons in scores of photographs of the landmark lake.

As minutes pass, the tones of the sky grow deeper orange and red as they tint the underbellies of the clouds and brighten the water’s surface. The western sky turns golden with ruby crowns, all reflected on Silver Lake.

Every hilltop object, animate and inanimate, becomes a row of silhouettes against the blazing background. As if brushed by an artist, the clouds display an autumn color palette of browns, grays, and oranges with patches of reds and pinks, their twins staring back at them.

As if on cue, three mallards take flight, their calls seemingly celebrating the day’s glorious ending. Silver Lake never looked prettier.

Shimmering Sunset

Driving home recently, a haze covered the late evening sun. It looked like a perfect orange ball.

By the time I arrived at a spot with a clear view to the west, the clouds had thickened, creating a surreal, shimmering scene. A minute later, the sun disappeared altogether.

Consequently, I felt fortunate to capture this shot.

Riding into the Sunset

Sunset from Mole Hill, Dayton, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Being at the right place at the right time is an essential part of photography. That’s what happened recently when I went to photograph the sunset from my favorite location, Mole Hill, near Dayton, Virginia.

When I arrived on the west side of Mole Hill, a noted area landmark, I discovered I was not alone. Several cars were stopped ahead of me on the gradual downhill slope. But once the sun sank behind the Allegheny Mountains, the vehicles continued on.

On my way up the road, I noticed a horse-drawn cart with an Old Order Mennonite young woman and two girls sitting on the wooden bench. They were parked beneath a walnut tree, admiring the various colors of the quickly changing landscape.

Imagine my surprise when I heard the clip-clop of horse hooves on the road’s surface. I turned around and saw the cart coming my way. I couldn’t believe my good fortune.

Out of respect to them, I waited until they were well past me before I took the photo. Like the Amish, Old Order Mennonites do not want their pictures taken for religious reasons.

Their little cart, with their yellow caution lights flashing, made this ho-hum sunset spectacular. I’m grateful I was there at the right time to capture the scene.

Kiss at Sunset

I went to the aft of our cruise ship to photograph the sunset over the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Of course, other passengers did the same.

As the evening quickly cooled, most people returned inside the ship after the sun set behind distant clouds. A few people lingered, including the couple pictured. I intended to use them as foreground silhouettes when the woman spontaneously stood on her tiptoes, leaned in, and kissed her partner.

It was the kind of photo I love to capture. I had planned to shoot one thing and ended up with something entirely different: a spontaneous, fleeting, loving moment. A picturesque sunset over the Gulf of St. Lawrence, sweetened by a sudden romantic gesture.

Spring’s Last Sunset

When I saw the high, thin clouds 30 minutes before sunset, I thought there might be a chance for spring to say farewell in color. As it turned out, it was more about the setting than spectacular sunset colors.

When I arrived at my favorite location to photograph sunsets, I wasn’t alone. Four other cars were ahead of me. However, they soon left, and I had the space all to myself, save for a passing horse-drawn cart with three young Old Order Mennonite ladies aboard.

We exchanged hellos, and I waited for the oranges that usually come when the sky is mostly clear over the Allegheny Mountains to the west. I wasn’t disappointed.

However, it was the big picture of the setting that got my attention. Below the glowing sky, another scene unfolded. The rolling, fertile farmland of western Rockingham County, Virginia, dotted by verdant woodlots, filled the foreground.

Beyond, mist rose from the valleys between forest-covered North Mountain and the higher Shenandoah Mountain. In the twilight, their iconic blue hues created a natural boundary between the golden sky and the farmsteads below.

Spring’s last sunset may have said goodbye, but it also set the stage for the joys of summer.

Summer Solstice!

Welcome to summer! The summer solstice arrives this evening at 10:42 p.m.

I took this photo of the 2016 summer solstice sunset when we lived in Ohio. The silhouette is our neighbor’s farm.

A summer solstice sunset. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Enjoy your summer!

Sunset at Silver Lake

Silver Lake, Dayton, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

The broken cloud cover in the early evening looked promising for a decent sunset. It didn’t turn out that way.

When I reached Silver Lake in Dayton, Virginia, the puffy, cumulous clouds had dissipated, leaving only high, wispy cirrus clouds to reflect the sun’s rays. So, I looked east, north, and south instead of west.

The clouds in the southern sky particularly caught my attention. I hustled to the northern end of the popular fishing lake and was thrilled to find the evergreens reflected in the lea of the lake tinted by the mauve sky.

It wasn’t the photo I had expected, but I took what was given, which was all I could do.

Last Night’s Sunset

Yesterday, the western sky was hazy in the late afternoon. After supper, I kept watch and headed to my favorite spots for sunset photography in Rockingham County, Virginia.

Colorful sunsets aren’t always easy to come by here in the Shenandoah Valley. It may look promising early on, but clouds tend to hang over the Allegheny Mountains that mark the state line between Virginia and West Virginia.

Then, just when you want to give up, boom, the pinks and oranges glow, if only briefly. Other times, it’s a complete bust. Nevertheless, I’d rather be patient than miss a stunning sunset.

Last evening, I changed locations several times until the western sky popped with color. I wasn’t in the most desirable spot, but I am not complaining after capturing this muted beauty.

Hawaii – Day 8

The relaxing view from our lanai. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

After a hardy breakfast of veggie omelets and fresh fruit, we left for the Maui Ocean Center. We drove through the burned-out section of Lahaina, and I didn’t realize it at first with all the rebuilding that had been done.

However, the many empty lots and scorched concrete block walls bore witness to the devastation. A respectful hush came over the bus. Everyone sensed the apparent dichotomy. As tourists, we embraced the beauty of the islands, its rhythmic language, the friendliness of its handsome people, and pride in their cultures. Yet, they had no homes, and still, they welcomed us. They needed the tourism jobs.

Sections of Lahaina still waiting to be rebuilt. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh

Though we left the hotel early, we arrived at the ocean center late. An accident caused a long traffic jam on the two-lane highway to the bay where the aquarium is located. The bus driver said accidents along this stretch of road are frequent.

A guided tour of the Maui Ocean Center gave us a good understanding of the sealife around Hawaii. We watched various fish, sharks, and stingrays swim past the aquarium’s large underwater windows. Humpback Whales breed and give birth in the waters off Maui, but we were a little early to see any whales.

Back at the hotel, we strolled down Black Rock Beach to a seaside restaurant. The locals were getting a headstart on celebrating the holidays. A large Christmas tree stood fully decorated at the end of a walkway to the beach.

The setting, the views, the flowers—everything was gorgeous. Parasails caught the trade winds offshore and glided high above the intoxicating indigo ocean.

After a bit of shopping, we continued to take it all in. We rested on the balcony of our third-floor room, which gave us great views of the catamarans sailing by, teenage boys taking turns jumping off the black lava rocks, and the soothing tropical breeze. We had to pinch ourselves to ensure we weren’t dreaming.

As evening approached, I wanted to get some sunset shots from the beach. I went down early, surprised to see how few people were out and about. Clouds began filling the sky, and I feared the sunset would be a bust. I need not have worried.

Over Pineapple Island, opposite the channel, warm, amber crepuscular rays began to filter through the clouds. They appeared like spotlights against the higher clouds, creating a surreal scene. I wondered what the natives long ago would have thought had they experienced this. Was this a sign from the gods? If so, what did it mean?

I snapped away at my good fortune. Could this vacation get any better? Yes, it did.

Water Lilies bloomed outside the hotel restaurant. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Sunrises, Sunsets!

These recent Shenandoah Valley sunrises and sunsets were too beautiful not to share with you, especially on gray, chilly December days.

This glowing sunset on December 2 included a sun pillar. The setting sun’s rays backlit the virga that appeared around the sun pillar.

I rose early enough on my birthday to capture the tale end of a lovely sunrise from the backyard. Red in the morning, sailors take warning proved true. Low rain clouds moved in and blessed us with some much-needed precipitation.

We didn’t get much, but every little bit helps.

The soft pastel sunset on December 4 added to my happy birthday.

In contrast, the December 7 sunset was explosive. As sunsets want to do, the colors transformed minute-by-minute as I changed locations to photograph the gorgeous scenes. This photo was taken from a roadside near my home.

Only six minutes later, the sky had transitioned to bright orange and scalloped grays over a local landmark: Mole Hill, a long-dormant volcanic core.

As I drove farther west, the sun sank behind the old, folded Appalachian Mountains. Still, earth and sky combined to provide photographic offerings.

Finally, it was time to head home, basking in the satisfaction of a marvelous sunset.

The following day, I woke in time to catch the last of a glorious dawn. A high hill blocked our view to the east, so I had to rely on peeking out a window to see what the sky had to offer. A friend who lives on a hill facing east posted the full sunrise on social media, replicating the previous night’s sunset beauty. So, I had to be happy with my backyard shot.

That’s how we live each day. We embrace whatever we discover, capture its essence, and share the blessing with all we meet.