It’s a foggy evening, here in High Park. It keeps getting thicker and thicker and we can barely see our neighbouring apartment buildings. I have to say I love it, it’s spooky and romantic, sort of.
My youngest son, Alex, called me outside to watch a funnel of small birds, like a sideways tornado. By the time I got outside (after having had to hunt a lighter for precious) the funnel was see-through but not before, according to Alex.
A funnel of sparrows fleeing all of a force, not, that’s not an omen AT ALL.
I said nothing ominous of course but exclaimed at the wonder of it and tried to be merely enthralled. Not romantic. Very, very attention getting. :0
My youngest son, Alex, called me outside to watch a funnel of small birds, like a sideways tornado. By the time I got outside (after having had to hunt a lighter for precious) the funnel was see-through but not before, according to Alex.
A funnel of sparrows fleeing all of a force, not, that’s not an omen AT ALL.
I said nothing ominous of course but exclaimed at the wonder of it and tried to be merely enthralled. Not romantic. Very, very attention getting. :0