As I fly, motor, or rail off into the sunset, having finished my tour on
this particular ship and well worth it it was, I am compelled to comment on
one other geo-climactic miracle more to Katy's liking. I do this, not to
entertain, nor to educate, but to keep Katy from hiding out up the mast
armed with various galley implements, as she is wont to do in times like
these.

A bit of Spencerian Style I think, just a touch, is the prescription
required here.


The scene took place in the harbor of the capitol of Samoa. The real
country of Samoa, formerly known as Western Samoa where they practice the
Samoan Way (Fa'a Samoa) and assuredly not in the territory of American Samoa
where they only talk of Fa'a Samoa while cashing their welfare checks and
eating their shipping subsidized 'pisupu' and Spam. But I digress as usual.

It was the summer rainy season meaning every day it rained like clockwork at
thesame time. So hard that from the shore one could not see boats anchored
nearby nor from boats see the shore. As this vertical wall of water, and
some air I presume since I was able to breathe successfully the entire time,
finished flooding streets, roads,sidewalks andthe underside of houses the
equatorial sun returned to highlight the cloud formations and at the same
time began it's final descent to the western horizon.

Steam billowed upward in clumps and wreaths from the land and massive cloud
formations, there high altitude cousins, drifted by in haphazard formation.
The surface of the earth seemed predominantly greens of various bright
tropical shades, dotted here and there by a passerby or a large flower,
pointillist in effect. The sky was of course blue but how to describe that
particular blue I don't know. Massive Blue. Overwhelming Blue yet softened
by the clouds.

Sun sinks further to the horizon and there will be no green flash here. The
clouds are strewn over the ocean like cotton balls scattered on your
grandmother's rug and out to the horizon in all directions save those
crowning the hilltops behind us where rests the man who wrote "Home is the
hunter . . . " Now the sun sinks to the earth and the light of it shoots
upwards and outwards in daggerous rays, striking deep and ripping through
the clouds above. The colors, aahhhh, the colors of it all are a silent
symphony as all the colors of the rainbow, so beautiful to see take turns in
bidding us good evening. But this particular day the golds and purples in
their various shades predominate and the quiet music turns more Wagnerian
with a touch of the two "B's" for effect.

It's not something easy to describe as they parade past and finally give way
to the evening but when the final assault, the final salute ends it reminds
one of what the Boston Pops try for at the end of their annual concert each
July.

Best way perhaps is to describe the effect on humankind, at least on those
of us standing open mouthed witnessing the display. The word is tears as in
'from the eye. Such was the effect on me and I thought "Hope no one sees."
But turning I saw the same from the others. All of us hard-bitten open
ocean sailors each with a moist trail of appreciation from eye to chin.

And that .. . .was the best sunset I've ever seen.

OK Katy, come on down!

M.







"katysails" wrote in message
...
I think it's all a hoax.....

--
katysails
s/v Chanteuse
Kirie Elite 32
http://katysails.tripod.com

"Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax
and get used to the idea." - Robert A. Heinlein



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