why do people whisper at sunsets?

[intjonathan]

So in a last-ditch attempt to do something interesting today, I poked my head outside after finishing Hero and, noticing the fantastic colors in the sky, decided I should go somewhere to capture them on film. That somewhere was the arboretum. I've never driven up there before, and it seemed extraordinarily unwise to do so minutes before dusk, but I had little to lose so I grabbed my camera and ran out the door.
Driving up to the top, one quickly realizes why the place closes at dusk. It's so treed-in that darkness comes much swifter once the sun starts setting. The parking at the top is surrounded by trees, but I saw through them that I had about 10 minutes before I missed what I came for. I also saw that I would have to find the observation tower in that time if I was to succeed. One would think that finding such a prominent location in less than 10 minutes would be easier. It wasn't. The map had very little correlation to the actual layout of the parking lot, so determining which of three trails to run down wasn't very easy. I ran a ways down one and nearly fell on my ass twice before realizing that taking off in a convenient direction wasn't a bad plan, so I studied the map more carefully. After cursing myself for forgetting my compass (once an Eagle, always an Eagle...) I noticed the key — the blue trails that went to the tower were pavement. They were also in the complete opposite direction. Well! Knowing that, I took off as fast as my clunky sandals could carry me, this time on the wide, obvious trails.
I went through a large tunnel and smack into a circle of about 15 people seated in the clearing. It looked like some kind of leadership seminar, and it was totally unexpected as there was only one other car in the parking lot. Where did they come from? I tried to look nonchalant like I wasn't really just ripping through the arboretum like a madman with a camera. I walked out of sight and proceeded running.
At the tower itself I realized there were more people, so I again slowed down and climbed the stairs quickly and quietly, willing my heart to slow down so my hard-earned sunset photos wouldn't be artistic blurs.
It was worth it. Had I been 5 minutes earlier, it would've been more worth it, but it was still worth it. I caught the darkest reds of dusk's threshold, all the more beautiful for the trouble in finding them.
After a few minutes the leadership group joined us, and I realized I was going to have to leave, and quickly. "Dusk" is vague enough—and I new enough—that giving myself a wide margin of error seemed best. So I ran to my car and tore down the winding, dark road with my brights on, fearing the worst for no reason in particular. It wasn't till I reached the still-open gate that I realized my folly. If it was dark when I drove in, wouldn't it be much darker when I left? And if it was bright outside when I came in, wouldn't it still be brighter outside when I left? Duh. Dusk was 20 minutes away, but I couldn't see that from the inside.

So that's my arboretum story. There's tons of metaphors in it I'm sure but I'm not going to pick them all out.
I'm going home tomorrow for my sister's ballet recital, which I'm sure will be wonderful, as it always is. Everyone else, make plans to do something outside tomorrow.

Comments

finding the tower...

[huggybee.livejournal.com]

In all the times I've been up there I have "accidentally" wound up BACK at the tower more times than I can count. The funny thing is, I have never noticed a map that tells me how to get there. I love that tunnel though. If you haven't already, read the plaque on the history of it. It's really cool. And if it means anything, I do the speeding to avoid dusk drive just about every time I leave. :) I think that's probably my "favoritest" place in Bellingham