On this mild autumn evening, I went out back to search the sky for migrating nighthawks. That goal was quickly abandoned as my attention was drawn to waves of cirrus clouds, pummeled by high altitude winds. Stretched into long tendrils, curled into tight eddies and whipped into merging forms, the icy bands of moisture zipped across the fading blue of early dusk.
While we often admire the brilliant colors of sunrise and sunset or stop to watch a powerful storm drift across the sky, we generally ignore the atmospheric dynamics that unfold overhead. We may note that it is a clear or cloudy day but, unlike children, tend not to be amused by changing figures in the sky. Though mesmerized by pounding waves, churning rapids or graceful waterfalls, we miss the drama high above our own backyards.
This evening's show was spectacular. Unfortunately, the nighthawks failed to appear.
