Sunsets Archives

December 5, 2025

Always Check the Rearview Mirror

When I hit Route Z west of Gordonville after visiting in-laws John and Dee Perry, I saw a huge, orange orb getting ready to drop below the horizon. There wasn’t a good place to stop, so I wrote it off.

Instead of turning left onto 25 to go to Cape, though, I went right to see what was happening in Dutchtown. The sun was gone, but I pulled off on a levee road just south of the Diversion Channel when I saw the sky still had some color. (Click on the photos to make them larger.)

The water in the foreground is what I thought Dad would call a Bar Pit. It wasn’t until many years later that I learned that it was a BORROW pit, a hole created when dirt was removed to make fills somewhere else.

Other kids counted cows and out-of-state license tags on road trips. Dad had us boys call out “Cut” or “Fill” to identify where the topography had been altered to reduce the road grades between hills and valleys.

Plowed the same ground in 2014

Interestingly enough, I had pulled off in the same place in 2014 (with far more dramatic results).

Super Moon

When I looked into the rearview mirror to back out of the levee road, this guy popped up.

I had learned years ago that it was a waste of time to chase the moon because it would always move faster than you can. This fits into my motto, “Shoot it when you see it before all the magic leaks out.”

January 2, 2025

The Last and the First

Cold weather causes my bladder to shrink, so I took advantage of every rest area between Cape and South Carolina (Son Adam) and West Palm Beach and back over the holidays.

This was my last sunset of 2024, taken at a rest area just over the Tennessee state line. Those clouds were part of a cold front moving in.

I had planned to make it as far as Cadiz, but elected to get off the road in Nashville before the drunks had time to get fueled up.

First 2025 sunset

I spotted this while I was unpacking my van on January 1.

Dad would have commented that “the moon is fixin’ to spill water.”

October 22, 2015

I Missed my Warriorettes

I like driving across the country, but this was a duller than usual trip.

All my Road Warriorettes came up with excuses why they couldn’t go with me this time. (What are the odds that they ALL had to wash their hair during those dates? And, how many times do you have to wash your hair, anyway?)

I got a characteristically late start, so the sun was dipping below the horizon before I got out of Okeechobee county. You can click on the pictures to make them larger.

Florida Citrus Tower

I only made it Clermont the first night. The first place I stopped for lodging wanted too much money. It only took a sweep of my headlights to scratch the next joint off my list. I pulled into a parking lot to do a Google search for what my other options were. It happened to be across the street from the Florida Citrus Tower.

This wasn’t the first time I had ogled the tower.

Road Warriorettes Anne and Jessica drop a dime (OK, it was only a penny, if want to quibble.)
Mother and the tower
Warriorette Anne wants to get frisky with Abe Lincoln

Mississippi River Bridge at Memphis

I usually take two different routes from Florida to Missouri:

Mostly Interstates through Orlando, Atlanta, Chattanooga, Nashville, Paducah and Cape
Cross-country on U.S. 27 through the center of Florida to Marianna, Fla., then Dothan, Montgomery, Birmingham, Nashville, Cadiz, Land Between the Lakes, Wickliffe, Cairo, Cape. Interestingly enough, both route are almost exactly the same distance – 1,110 miles.

This time, I decided to go the U.S. 27 route to Birmingham, then cut across to Memphis and up I-55. That added about half a day to the trip because I pulled into Tupelo at dark and decided to stop so I could drive the rest of the way in the daylight. I mean, why go a new way if you can’t see the countryside? This was slightly longer than my usual routes, but the roads were much improved over the last time I had gone that way.

“Just go”

When I got to the Jasper exit, I called Wife Lila to ask if she wanted me try to find the worst motel we had ever stopped at.

It was well past Cranky O’Clock, with few prospects anywhere near, so I acceded to the requests (demands?) to stop at the first available place, sight unseen. I registered and handed her the room key while I started to unload the car.

She opened the door, turned around and scurried back to the car. “Let’s go,” she said. “Don’t even stop to get our money back, just go.”

She said I didn’t need to search for the place.

April 18, 2015

Sunset on Moonville Road

Curator Jessica and I were headed back to Athens, Ohio, after trekking over a muddy trail to the allegedly haunted Moonville Railroad Tunnel in Vinton County. (More about that soon.)

The sun was thinking hard about going down when we passed over a low-water crossing and saw the sky splashing orange over Raccoon Creek. When I spotted the house glowing dimly in the distance, it was time to stop for a photo.

The first photos were just a little bit “cool,” or blue, so I changed the color balance adjustment on my Nikon D3100 from “Auto” to “Shade” and dialed in a bit of blue because the orange was TOO orange.

I won’t say this was entirely faithful to what Mother Nature provided, but it’s close enough that I don’t feel guilty.