The other night, as sunset approached, I drove out to the local moors along a "B" road that runs to the north of Burbage Moor and heads into Derbyshire. Our house looks westwards but because of the topography and the houses and trees in between we never get to see sunsets properly - just swathes of colour, pink-washed clouds, golden sunbeams - tantalising glimpses of what we would be seeing if we were perched at the top of a ridge.
So sometimes I drive up to that lonesome moorland road or carry on to Stanage Edge. A good sunset is a much better viewing experience than the most popular TV show or the best film ever made. And it is a once only show. Tomorrow night it will be different. As the sunset time approaches you never know how it will turn out - the position of the clouds, the way that light will be refracted, the moisture in the air.
Surely all of our ancestors also gazed in wonder at sunsets. There is something vaguely spiritual or worshipful about watching sunsets. It is like gazing upon the handiwork of the divine.
As I waited up on the moors, I observed the changing light and how it was illuminating wooden fencing adjacent to a cattle grid. I crouched down for a more interesting angle and waited for a vehicle to approach. As luck would have it, that vehicle was a Land Rover - a very suitable moorland machine. To the right - on the horizon- you can see the southern end of Stangae Edge. I have christened this picture "Crossing the Border":-