Weathered fishing shacks, stacks of lobster pots and piles of crushed blue mussels, quahaugs and oysters everywhere are the signs you are in Menemsha. People beach, bring their boats in the harbor and kayak in the pond.

And when the sky begins to turn golden — the first sign of the show — the beach is packed. Watchers look westward to take in the show from their boats and the dock. Onlookers sip cups of chowder and slurp oysters.

As the blaze slips beneath the horizon beyond the sea, the crowd claps. A boat honks, and the parking lot begins to empty. People walk up Basin Road, back to their cars, past a sculpture in the dunes of a man, his harpoon and his catch.