In Life on the Mississippi, Mark Twain wrote “one cannot see too many summer sunrises on the Mississippi.” I’m not much of a morning person, so I don’t have the breadth of experience to judge the quality of sunrises, but I have seen my share of sunsets along the Mississippi. They aren’t too bad, either.
As the sun goes down, the world in front of you fades from the well-defined to the abstract: green trees and brown islands melt together into masses of grays and blacks; the sky turns from solid blue to a palette streaked with yellow, gold, red, and pink. After a day on the river, few sights are more satisfying than watching the sun paint its colors across the sky as it slides down the horizon and out of sight.
