Fires in the Sky

In the east a flush of light broke the darkness of the enveloping night. A new day was coming to life. The glow slowly became stronger as the sun took off his nightcap and, stretching and yawning as all lazy heads do, arose from his slumbers to go about his appointed tasks. Long before he appeared a sky full of fire in the east heralded his coming. The whole sky was filled with red light until there was no more room left in the sky and the red light spilled over the earth, and everything on earth was wrapped in flowing light and seemed to come aflame. The silhouette of the desert city was painted with the color of fire and never did it look so beautiful. To the north the high cliffs of the plateau country, bathed in the same light, were living flames of red radiance. The shady side of the mountains were cool in purple light and above them a few clouds were patches of mauve. It wasn't anything unusual. Just another sunrise over the western land. Workers on their way to early jobs scarcely noticed the wondrous thing that was happening about them, their heads filled with hurry and with matters more mundane. But the newly-arrived resident, getting up to let the cat in, stood transfixed as he viewed the early morning sky and stared in awe atwhat he considered one of Nature's masterpieces, which of course it was. In the distant place where he lived before moving West, sunrise was seldom so vivid and dramatic. As the sun arose over the mountains, the color with which the earth was painted gradually faded from red to pink until the fires had burned themselves out, until everything the mountains, the clouds, the silhouette of the desert city were cameo-clear in the white, bright light of the risen sun. The new day was born, and its destiny, whatever it was to be, was being fulfilled. Just another day in the succession of countless days that began when eternity began, but any day with such a flamboyant beginning surely would be a good day a day when one could be happy to be alive.

"High Mountain Evening" C. F. STOODY "Evening Comes To Canoa Ranch"

Sunrises and sunsets out here in this country are unlisted as points of interest in the travel books. The traveler and the visitor, spending a few days or a few months in the land of the sun, are not prepared for the brilliant sky pageants that occur so often when the sun comes and the sun goes. In this arid climate the clear air, free from cloying moisture or industrial contamination, has a sparkling translucency which aids and abets the rays of the sun mixing the colors in the immense palette of earth and sky.Into the editorial offices of this magazine come hun-dreds of color transparencies each month, submitted for consideration by photographers ranging in skill from inexperienced amateurs to seasoned professionals. We see more transparencies whose subject matter is in the category of what we call sunrises and sunsets than in any other category of subject matter including Grand Canyon, desert landscapes or Oak Creek Canyon, the three of the most photographed areas in all of western America. Of course, for every sunrise we see there are ten sunsets. Apparently being a sleepy head is an occupational lapse as prevalent among photographers as among the lay public, and, after all, not all of us must get up to let in the cat. A philosopher once said that to sleep late is a sign of an easy conscience. We suppose that is so but we submit, however, to the premise that late risers miss a lot of good and spectacular light, and whether photographer or mere spectator vistas pleasing not only to the camera but the eye are lost forever. Be that as it may, we know that if all the color film exposed each year in Arizona by virtue of flagrantly chromatic and dramatic sky compositions was laid together, the composite would extend, if not to the sun, at least to the moon. Color film makers should burn candles in all the churches of the world in grateful homage to the Creator of these western skies who brings so much business to their doorsteps.

It is our curious observation that of all sunrises and sunsets we have observed and have seen preserved on the medium of color film we have never seen two sunrises or sunsets the same. The fire in the skies flame brightly but always with varying degrees of intensity, and that is what makes the collecting of sky color panoramas, sunrises and sunsets, so interesting and absorbing. You never know what to expect, you never know what you'll get, but you know you won't be disappointed. Could any other collecting hobby be more satisfying? More fun, we know, than the hobby of collecting match folders or dollar bills and, moreover, you're out of doors in the fresh air. Our hobby is, to say the least, a healthy one. In the meantime that punctual old sun whose awakening in the early morning concerned us so much has gone about his work-a-day duties. The ancient scribe who wrote long ago that “the sun rises and the sun sets” must have been a very gloomy person to pass off a daily miracle in such prosaic and succinct language. Or maybe he was just saving his quill and ink; or was too busy thinking up catchy phrases to intrigue the fancy of bullfighting novelists who would follow him centuries later; or had dyspepsia or myopic eyes; or didn't know that poetry could be written upon something else other than dried goat's hide or parchment. As the sun approached the western horizon, not a minute too early or too late, the old clockwatcher was up to some capricious high jinks himself. There was nothing unusual about his journey through the day. Just another sunshiny day over this western land when at times, say at midday, his brightness was so intense it seemed to burn all the blue out of the sky leaving the sky faded like a pair of well-washed blue jeans.

If the old showoff lacked interest during the day, he was all set to make his departure praiseworthy and memorable. As he approached journey's end, the sun became a red ball of fire in the western sky and the fire spread to the skies above and the earth below. Soon all the west was aflame and the flaming color was so rich you couldn't tell where sky ended and earth began. The rays of the sun were long, searching fingers of fire probing the heavens with torches of color and even igniting in the east the mountains that were cool purple in the early morning light.

And gradually the fires went out and darkness came again. But wasn't it a wonderful day to have such a radiant ending?