We got a hot tip about a colony of bats that fly from a hole in the gutter of an old abandoned building at dusk. So of course we waited here quite awhile to see them.
No bats. But we saw things just as lovely. The cut out roads in the mountain behind us.
A robin, singing his evening song so enthusiasticaly that one foot came off the roof.
The shadows of the setting sun on the remaining jonquils.
The windows of our downtown thrater.
And on our way home, the little light-changing tree in our neighbor's yard. With sights like this, who needs bats?
“At nightfall, colors disappear. Moon's paintbrush has only a palette of shadows: creamy gray, inky black, illusive indigo.”
~ Dr. Sun Wolf