At 6:30 on a recent morning, while most of San Francisco was still asleep — and City Hall was presumably dreaming up new ways to spend your money — the full Pink Moon put on a show over Lombard Street that didn't cost taxpayers a single dime.

Early risers and dedicated photographers caught the lunar spectacle as it dipped behind the iconic switchbacks of the "crookedest street in the world," casting the Russian Hill landmark in an ethereal glow that no amount of municipal beautification funding could replicate.

It's a good reminder that San Francisco's greatest assets aren't the product of any government program or public-private partnership. The city's jaw-dropping beauty — its hills, its light, its fog rolling through the Golden Gate — is the original draw. It's what makes people tolerate $4,000 studio apartments and streets that sometimes look like they haven't seen a city worker in months.

The Pink Moon, for the uninitiated, doesn't actually turn pink. It's named after the wild ground phlox that blooms in early spring across North America. But the warm hues of a low-hanging full moon against San Francisco's skyline? That's close enough.

Moments like these also highlight something we don't say often enough: this city is still magical. For all our (very justified) complaining about bloated budgets, crumbling infrastructure, and a bureaucracy that moves slower than Muni on a Monday, San Francisco can still stop you in your tracks at 6:30 in the morning with nothing more than moonlight and a winding street.

No permits required. No oversight committee. No $2 million feasibility study.

Just a moon, a hill, and a city that — when it gets out of its own way — remains one of the most breathtaking places on Earth.