all cool pictures
View allAll Photos Tagged all_sunsets
SunSet Laughlin Nv. 01-23-23 Not all sunsets are bright reds and yellows some are dark and foreboding
Not all sunsets have to be crazy skies. The more subtle colors in this sunset fit well with the tufa. On the far distant tufa, an osprey is perched. Mono Lake, California, July 2021
Best viewed large by pressing "L". All rights reserved
Happy Easter to all, sunset at Jorquera village, in the middle of nowhere at the edges of Albacete province, it was a very windy evening, blue hour version coming soon.
#sunset #sunrise #sun #pretty #beautiful #red #orange #pink #sky #skyporn #cloudporn #nature #clouds #horizon #photooftheday #instagood #gorgeous #warm #view #night #morning #silhouette #instasky #all_sunsets
A little over a year ago I bought a laptop. One of those models with the symbol of a popular fruit with a bite taken out of it on the lid. You know what I'm talking about. My brother Dave, a former computer nerd turned disillusioned webmaster, hates the brand with a passion, while other geeks love them. I heard the graphics were good so without mentioning it to a disapproving Dave, I thought I'd try one for myself. Not a brand new model of course. We'd be well into four figures invested for one of those, but a number of companies are in the business of overhauling oldies and breathing new life into them. I should get a few more years out of mine, and now I've got used to it, I like it. And what's best of all is that it fits neatly into the camera bag. It arrived just in time to join us on last year's spring trip to Fuerteventura, and since then it's accompanied me on every adventure. Ideal for those evenings in the apartment if you're not a pair of late night party animals. And being able to store your raw files online and on a hard drive before the airport metal detectors get the chance to fog your SD cards is like a second and third layer of insurance against losing those hard won images you took under the distant sun.
Apart from taking it on holiday, the Macbook and fries (see what I did there?) are often whisked into action when Clive, or Sophie or Rita are reading the news, and telling me that the world is about to end. It's a lot easier than trying to rest a PC on your lap, that's for sure. At the moment, the relatively small hard drive contains the images from Egypt and Menorca before that. And in addition to those, there's the Randoms Folder. The one where I sometimes drag in a few files from outings with the camera that have never seen the light of day. I have far too many such folders in the archive, most of them from around the Cornish coast of course. Sometimes I'll have a look through a set where I can see there's no subfolder containing edits and wonder why I've never touched them. I don't suppose I'm alone in this, but I'm forever finding shots like this one and scratching my head. Was there something I didn't like about this group? Did I go out again the next day and shoot the mother of all sunsets? Or maybe I was preoccupied with other stuff.
I think it was the latter of these three scenarios that meant an afternoon at Cape Cornwall had slipped down the back of the sofa in October a couple of years ago. Maybe a hint of the first thrown into the mix as well. I've never quite hit it off with the place, probably because I always think I'm going to get a better shot from Porth Nanven on the other side of the Carn Gloose headland to the south. But the overriding factor was that two weeks earlier I'd just returned from a fortnight exploring Iceland, and if you've been there with your camera then you don't need me to tell you what that means. So despite some lovely soft October sunshine and a bristling Atlantic Ocean in front of me, the Cape Cornwall set lay ignored in the electronic dust. But unlike some untouched folders that I've more or less forgotten, I did at least keep reminding myself that there were probably some half decent images to be mined from this outing at the coast.
What had escaped my memory was exactly how good that golden hour was. And not long ago, just before setting off for Sharm el-Sheikh, a place where I suspected I wasn't going to come away from with a massive haul of images, I added a number of raw files to the Randoms Folder. Shots that might occupy a quiet evening hour in the editing suite now and again. A chance to include that trip to Cape Cornwall that had been so pointedly ignored up until now. And even though there are still a glut of exposures to work on from that outing, I'm glad this one has finally been seen the light of day.
Located five blocks from the lakefront, the Sheboygan County Courthouse glows under the pink skies of this beautiful sunset.
All sunsets are lovely, but some really stand out. I think this qualifies as a standout!
For a few moments it felt like I'd be witnessing the mother of all sunsets as those rainclouds drifted in from the right and towards the setting sun. Sadly this was about as good as it got. Still on the positive side this was the first time I got out with the electric bike for this year. It came in handy, helping me home in time for the Chelsea - Everton game! A few nights later I stood by the sea near my place, looking towards this area and enjoyed some northern lights for a hour or so.
It wasn’t all sunsets and speedos on this trip to Fuerteventura. And although Ali reminded me that our time here started almost three weeks later last year, we’ve been on the island in deepest winter before and not seen any rain. This time, the heavens vented forth on a number of occasions. Never for more than about three minutes at a time, and quite often followed by warm sunshine almost immediately, but even so - we’d come here to escape the end of the winter at home. The first week and a half were dogged by “La Calima,” with sand blasted across the sea from the Sahara Desert that whipped around us with alarming vigour. The exfoliating shower gel in the wash bag back at the hotel might as well have been left at home in view of the free skin care regime the elements were offering. Today, we’d decided to walk to the rim of Calderon Hondo, a nearby volcano, only to be rained upon as we arrived at the top. I’d never felt so cold here before. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Last year, the temperatures had at times reached the low thirties, but at the moment we were more than ten degrees cooler as we sat at the edge of the crater feeling slightly downcast. There was no point in going and lying on the beach today. We’re not into suffering for the sake of it you know.
So after descending back to the leeward side of the volcano and the comfort of the car, we came here. Well we didn’t at first - instead we decided to head down a very rough track at a quarter speed, dodging sharp stones and wondering whether it really was such a great idea. Eventually, we shuffled uncomfortably over a very lumpy entrance to what passed for a parking area at the top of the cliffs, and squeezed in next to a series of far more rugged looking vehicles. There was a path down to the sea, where two kamikaze windsurfers were trying their best to shred their boards and bodies into untidy ribbons, racing towards the rocks at the shore before changing course at the last moment. Maybe I could try photographing the water coming in over those rocks? Or maybe I should have pulled up at the other end of this long beach - the end that offered rather more possibilities than here; the end where I had unfinished business from last year. Twelve months earlier I’d taken what I thought was a lovely glowing long exposure of an uncovered rock, only to find the raw image was about as sharp as a swimming pool full of candy floss. The submarine shaped rock in the sand looked as if the captain had just received instructions to intercept the stranger on the shore just as I hit the shutter. Maybe a wave had come in and nudged the tripod at the moment of truth. Maybe it was a simple case of user incompetence. It wouldn’t be the first time. We’ll come back to that image - writing this tale has reminded me of a tool that wasn’t in the armoury until recently.
The only thing was, the light didn’t look like it was going to play ball today, so whatever this was going to be, it wasn’t going to be a repeat performance. Even so, we crept over boulders and back along the dirt road to the headland at the edge of town, where Ali pulled out her kindle and I headed off towards the beach with the camera. In the absence of a warm glow on the horizon, maybe a moody flow on the foreground would fill the void. I wandered along the clifftop towards the beach, passing the usual array of ancient motorhomes from various corners of Europe, certain that at least one of them hadn’t budged an inch since our visit here last year. Down by the water, I felt at least that I was in familiar territory. Chasing receding streaks of white foam back down towards the sea isn’t exactly a leap from what I’m often playing at ten miles down the road from home, and for once, I stopped as soon as I knew I had a shot in the bag and moved onto something else.
“That looks just like the cappuccino I’m having,” was the response from one of my clearly not too occupied correspondents as she viewed the image over her morning coffee. By now, I was missing cappuccino - I’d moved onto black coffee for the duration of the holiday for practical reasons - so it wasn’t at all difficult to see it for myself. I’ve got one of those milk frothing gizmos at home now, and after years of trying, I’ve finally got my home brews just how I like them, chocolate sprinkles et al. Although I don’t usually take mine on the rocks; not unless it’s summer, and today didn’t feel like summer at all.
It wasn’t the end of the rain, although this was as gloomy as it got during our stay. Most sunset hours at the coast would be spent trying to balance out vicious dynamic ranges, and this was perhaps the only time before sunset that the histogram didn’t have a tantrum on the back of the camera. If I said I’d taken this at home in Cornwall, nobody would have batted an eyelid. But while it was reassuring to shoot a moody dark sky, we were here for warm afternoons on the beach. So thank goodness the sun was shining the next morning.
céu - dia - nuvens - prédio - cidade | sky - Day - clouds - building - city / São Paulo/SP - Brasil | instagram @luciano_cres
In astronomical terms, sunsets are the daily disappearance of the sun’s upper limb below the horizon. And though their warm beauty is expected, not all sunsets are created equal. In deserts, sunsets are decidedly more colorful.
While it may not visibly appear that way, sunlight is actually made up of the full spectrum of colors. The atmosphere acts as a filter for incoming sunlight, just like a filter you would put on a camera to filter out certain colors.The longer the pathway through the atmosphere, the more that filtering effect becomes noticeable to humans. Each color represented in the rainbow has its own unique wavelength. Colors with longer wavelengths, such as oranges and reds, are more visible, while purples and blues (which have shorter wavelengths) get left out.
I really love the soft pastel colors that occur in the golden hour just before sunrise. This is another shot taken across the street in Navarre, FL.
Sunsets are so different every day, there are those that are just so epic and vibrant that make them unforgettable and then there are others that are just so much more soft and reflective. This is one of those others that I was lucky enough to witness and enjoy.
The title says it all.
Sunset light on the Fire Wave, Valley of Fire State Park, Nevada, USA.
Prints: tom-schwabel.pixels.com
This is a copyrighted image with all rights reserved. Please don't use this image on websites, blogs, facebook, or other media without my explicit permission. See profile page for information on prints and licensing.
Bản quyền hình ảnh. Không sử dụng mà không được phép.
Авторское изображение. Не используйте без разрешения.
受版权保护的图像。未经许可，请勿使用。
As with all sunsets, eventually the sun sinks behind the horizon, and night comes washing across the scene. You don't have to go is a great title , and is from the new War on Drugs album.