I was walking Simon late yesterday afternoon, when the sun was nearing the horizon. Simon is pretty slow these days, so I had time to just stand and look west down the hill and over the woodlands.
I love this time of day; the lighting is almost always spectacular, even when the sun is hidden in deep clouds. Yesterday, though, it wasn’t, so the nearly-naked trees were brightly backlit.
Suddenly something flashed toward the bottom of the hill. It looked like a fluttering splotch of gold-white light, and it was soon joined by more. I think it was a flock of birds, the sun shining through their wings. But for all the world it looked like butterflies of light flitting across the horizon.
Really, it doesn’t make much difference what caused this sight—it was amazing no matter the source. Hundreds of them in groups of three, seven, twelve … butterfly-flight pattern down pat, shining, glittering, sparkling lights flying between the trees, seeming to disappear as each escaped the sun-glow.
I believe Earth is providing mind-boggling spectacles all the time. But most of us seem to need a slow dog in our lives to open our eyes.
Thank you, Simon.