Lyons, Colorado. Season of my cousin’s birthday; of northern summer solstice; of full moon approaching. We wake in the morning to a couple of cumulus and cirrus; about 30 degrees C; dry air; 5-6,000 feet; front range Rocky Mountains, with the flatlands of the prairies to the east. And up above, where the sun has risen over the ridge that reminds us of red dirt and green grass of post-rain Pilbara, the sun has slipped behind the clouds—and on their feathered edges they glow a halo of full-rainbow colours, all shimmering and pearly colour-spectrum light.