Toward the end of the day when it's nearly dusk here in the flatlands, the mountains north of Pasadena get a pinky-orange glow from sun still warming their folded slopes. It only lasts a few minutes (more than five, fewer than ten) so you have to pay attention.
I grew up in Illinois. It's flat there. Your eyes can go for miles without running into so much as a hill. Living here is a constant marvel--mountains! ocean! desert! And every time I look north I feel blessed, especially when the mountains are pink.
I'll tell you this, too: visits to Illinois, which don't happen often enough, bring just as much wonderment. When nothing obstructs your vision, it's amazing how much you can see.