There is something otherwordly about these spring evenings. The sun is never as coppery as in April and May, before the gentle colours of summer have taken over.
It’s as if the world is both dying and waking up at the same time.
When nature is mostly grey and brown and nothing seems worth looking at, the setting sun gilds the scene and makes it magical. To compensate, perhaps? You just have to be patient and wait for the drab day to be over, and suddenly there’s your reward: the dusty, muddy nothingness of an April day in the north turns to a golden spectacle.