Looking outward

I seem to have a need to look out and look up.  In grade school, I got scolded for gazing out the classroom windows too much.  In high school, I would come home in the afternoon and scold my mother for having all the shades drawn and curtains pulled.  She thought it made the house cozy - I couldn't stand it.

So living in Arizona suits me - there's lots of sky and lots of gazing out and up to do.  There are vistas and cloud formations and new birds to identify. Even though Gerry recognized that I needed a house with lots of windows for looking outward, he's still prone to asking me what I'm looking at.  So many times, I haven't a clue what I'm looking at - I'm just looking.

Friday night's sunset provided a fabulous, colorful vista for gazing upon.

 

Imagine my surprise when Saturday morning's vista showed a new element that appeared to crop up overnight in the hayfield behind our house.

 

And now we have this (not my choice of vista, but at least we know it's temporary):

Totally unrelated to vistas...  this is not a hummingbird:

Nor is this:

And I haven't a clue what this is... I keep hoping for a chance at a photo of the huge raven that squawked at me our first morning here, but I have a hunch this is just a pigeon.  Very visible across the park, on the neighbor's roof, though, isn't it?  I need better zoom-ability.