Beached whale

A week ago, out looking for handy rocks for Rock Flipping Day, I came across a large broken mirror, discarded on one of the gravel piles.


Looks like an old mirrored headboard. A heavy thing; I wonder why anyone would lug it all the way to the centre of the lot to discard it. People are strange, sometimes.

Laurie loves reflective surfaces, even one like this, facing the empty sky. I went home to get him, and then we crawled all over the gravel pile, looking at the mirror. (We're strange, too.)

It was no longer a mirror. It was a beached whale:

An orca, far, far from the sea.


Live orcas, not beached, for comparison. (From Wikipedia)

No, it was a large scenic photograph:

Tall trees, somewhere else. Not near the gravel pile, anyhow.

No, it was a placid pond, surrounded by pink-petalled flowers:


Or a creek with a tangled bank:


And then again, it was just an old dirty mirror, reflecting a cloudy sky.

Hey! Where did those clouds come from?

What fun!
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