edge of the continent / la Gaspésie / neighbours

R groans, Not another picture of a sunset... So many times I've left my chair and glass of wine or the table just set with supper to dash outside to take a pic of the sun as it's setting. This moment seems perfect, better than any other, and even though I know a camera never gets the full splendour of the sky over water. Then I'm sitting again but this moment looks more perfect and I reach for the camera again. Can't help myself.

In September the sun sets while we're eating. In July the sun still has a way to go, the kitchen where we eat is sideswiped by apricot light from the west. I've understood more about grade school explanations of the sun and the tilt of the Earth's axis from sitting on the edge of the continent, watching the sun go down over water, than I ever did in grade school.

Back at the table, I take another pic of the sun going down, but this time the light is reflected off the covered plate our neighbour has brought because we've just arrived that afternoon and she guesses I might not have made dessert yet. She's right, I haven't. We don't usually eat dessert. She calls what she's made tourbillon, which means whirlwind or vortex. It's saucy and messy with rhubarb, strawberries, and chunks of baked biscuit. I should have taken a pic but it's eaten.