It was one of those nights where the air is warm yet crisp. The moon was fat and full and made everything radiate. The prickly pears, scrub oak, pinyons, junipers, little flowers on hardy plants cast long, sharp shadows against the deep orange slickrock. The desert sounds of scurrying feet, rustling breeze, and creatures calling out bounced around the canyons. It made everything seem comfortable, alive, and content.
It was a good night, a good night for just about anything.