I’m writing from a bungalow on a hilltop in Bisbee, Arizona. The town is spread out below us and fir trees frame the view.

To reach this special place we flew from Dulles to Denver to Tucson, picked up a rental car and drove 100 miles southeast through the old west town of Tombstone. The road curved around mountains that caught the lowering light in their folds.

After we arrived late yesterday afternoon, I sat on the porch and watched the sky redden above the dark, wrinkled hills. I had seen the sun rise in Virginia from the airport tarmac, elevation 313 feet. Now I was seeing it set in an old Arizona mining town, elevation 5,533.

Sunrise, sunset. With a lot of traveling in between.