Grander skies do not exist

Cloud majesty, right out my front door.

How many reds can a sunset have?

A butte, ablaze, along the Colorado River north of Moab

Sometimes the blues dominate.

Backlit goblins — Goblin Valley State Park

Views from my front porch are never the same twice.

Watercolor sunset over the Green River Overlook.

Sandstorm sunset creates an illusion of a floating red ball over housing area.

The sky changes every few seconds here.

“Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors

Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from Sinai.”

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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“One day,” you said to me, “I saw the sunset forty-four times!”
And a little later you added:
“You know– one loves the sunet, when one is so sad…”
“Were you so sad, then?” I asked, “on the day of the forty-four sunsets?”
But the little prince made no reply.
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

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The display is breathtaking, every single evening. It is simultaneously mundane and miraculous, always beckoning me to the porch for the last few moments of each day. Apricot and periwinkle, magenta and tangerine, colors of life and delight and laughter, best shared with one you love.

[Colors have not been altered on any photo.]