It's the lorikeet hour. The local lorikeets spend their day clowning around town, but in the evening dozens congregate in the branches of a massive Native Daphne in the backyard of the neighbour across the road.
Every so often, huge groups take off spontaneously and fly over our roof, chattering. Some of the flocks fly so low it's like standing beneath a pulsating rainbow. I've never been successful in getting a photo.
But it does bring a smile to my dial.