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bats over the beaches

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-eight years and a million words

I was nearly home when I came upon some small bats gliding over the street – at the level of my helmet! I do love seeing bats about, it means that mosquitoes are dying, and they are beautiful in flight.

At twenty to nine I set off under threatening storms on a trek north that took two and a half long hours. It wasn't quite the Iliad, but I sure saw some sights. Insane cell phone driving, unannounced construction closures, and inexplicable holes in the driving infrastructure (e.g. being unable to get onto the northbound 400 from Steeles). Happily, the temperature fell from 25° to 17° before I got to the cottage.

I'm here to do four things:

a. Finish mopping up this season's phragmites.

b. Haul the appliances out of the basement with the scrap metal man.

c. See my mum's cousin Neal, who I have not seen in thirty years.

d. Do a little fishing.