Sailors delight

My parents' camp faces west, across River Named After a Dead Saint. Usually, just before the sunset begins, family members are scurrying about to do stuff they need to do before it gets dark: brushing teeth, perhaps, or finding a sweatshirt, or getting some kindling for the fire, or putting away the bocce balls, or rooting through a tent in hopes of finding that elusive flashlight. But then someone will yell, "Hey, look at the sunset," and anyone within hearing distance will take a few minutes to stop and stare. The sunsets don't last long, just a few minutes really, but for those few minutes, the calm water in our bay glows red. I've watched these sunsets all my life, and I still don't get tired of them.