Those three words, strung together like beads on a necklace, are my favourite. They evoke lines from Dylan Thomas' poem "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night". Although that poem was relating to ageing and the death of his father, I somehow see it in a more natural context. The poetic link apart, for me, those three words signify my favourite time of day. The ending of what might have been a bad day and the beginning of something new. To watch a sunset is profoundly spiritual and unique. Each sunset will be watched by thousands of people all over the world, and for each and every one it will be seen at a different angle, at a different time, in different conditions. No two will ever be the same.



For the last week or so, I've made the point of escaping with the dog, down the garden path at the same time, hoping to catch this wonderful spectacle at the highest point I can find. If nothing else, the colours you can catch here are just spectacular. When we first leave the door, the clouds are white or grey-white, with deep blue skies all around and just the tiniest hint of the sun lining the clouds.



Then come the ice-cream skies. These are in the east, in the opposite direction to the sunset. The clouds are usually pinks, purples, blues and oranges, making every single bit of the sky come to life. The colours darken and change every second, until there is nothing there and the sky becomes deeper blue and greyish.



Towards the sunset the colours darken and silhouettes are clearly visible. My horizon is edged by lacy Scots Pine trees, giving a delicate fern-like appearance. I love pine trees and pine forests. We are lucky here, we're hemmed in by them.



As the sun slips between the clouds for the last time, rays of sun fill the sky, before twilight descends. As this happens I feel very close to the world, seeing it in a different light. Twilight is very surreal, it changes the tone and colour of the world, it puts birds to roost and gives the signal for nocturnal or diurnal animals to reappear. Walking through the long grasses at this time is very satisfying, but we walk slightly quicker, so as to be home before night darkens our surroundings.



And then the sun has nearly gone for another day and I'm pleased, because I saw its slow arch back down to earth again. In summer we sit and watch this in the garden, but as it's so cold right now, I must wrap myself up in layers of fleece and gloves. The dog straining at the lead to smell a new smell. Though when I stand still to watch this wonderous phenomena, she stands still too.



Towards the pine forest, through the thicket, down a path, over a meadow and back home. Darker than when we left, and cooler too. One last peek before we go inside for the night. Snug and warm, renewed in vigour and waiting for the next outing tomorrow.