Next Twilight

Living in Orlando, lines are a way of life. Long, irksome lines of draggy tourists. Theme parks have fabricated clever ways of keeping patrons entertained while they wait an hour or more to hop on a two-minute ride.

As I write, I sit in a line. I'm between SeaWorld and Universal theme parks. I wait across the street from the new Universal Epic park under construction. There's a blood red painted "AB" on my raindrop specked windshield. The line I'm stuck in is for covid anti-body testing. And I must dream up my own entertainment, in my own mind.

Sure I could pull out my phone, text someone, play music, stream a video, read an ebook or any number of things. My mind, however, has been on the Next Twilight. No, not a book. I mean sunsets and sunrises. Crammed in my house for many weeks at a time has me hungry for outdoor experience. Besides the usual color infrared photos, I'm focusing on fine-tuning optical filters and techniques to capture more amazing twilight photos.

The symbol of a sunset and then a new sunrise becomes obvious for many of us. It will be a long time before we feel things are back to normal. But nothing is ever really normal. Every day brings unique change. Before this and after this changes are a constant. You know this, we all know this, but we prefer to think of things as normal. And being stuck inside for weeks on end, change looks inviting.

As every day sees change, every sunrise and every sunset is unique. Looking through my unique designs and selections of optical spectral filters gives me a sense of awe. When I see the unseen radiance that nature provides, which my unaided eye cannot without the translation from full spectrum to the the narrow sliver of visible light my eyes see, I'm renewed.

The sky (1 & 2) without my optical filter

The same sky (1 & 2) a moment later with my optical filter

Having Next Eyes is a renewal. Seeing Next Twilight is a transition from one long day to the next. The sky and the sun set, and the next sky and new sun rise. They are both unique. Brilliant contrasting orange-magenta, blue-yellow, as unique as snowflakes, made of sunny warmth and particle scattering clouds.


In my meanderings outside I've seen and heard a lot of usually shy nature, including hooting owls, fishing herons, mossy back turtles and even a rare midnight black coyote. Creatures seem as hungry as me to explore their surroundings. They creep into mine. I tromp into theirs. While more rare animals explore, less cars venture the roads. Nature is making a comeback play.

The fraternal twins of sunset and sunrise form a divide in the ying-yang of environment and economy. I've sat two hours now in a long line of idling cars, thicker raindrops, darkening puddles, smells of sulfur and carbon dioxide. Pollutants actually make twilight warmer, with dirty aerosols from factory puffs or hot car exhaust scattering more orange, pinks, reds and even infrared from the horizon where the clouds of haze hover against the low sun angle.
Finding beauty in anything, pristine nature or dirty haze, comes from opening our Next Eyes. It can happen even when quarantined or dragging impatiently through slow lines. Appreciating never ending changes and seeing something new expands our personal horizons. My tests came back negative, by the way, so my horizons have moved forward.

(All photos taken between in the past week in my neighborhood.  

Twilight photos all with my proprietary optical filters.)