I figured the tornado would act like a big chain saw. And it looked like the tornado bounced, touching down for a few hundred yards and then lifting again. There must have been other, smaller tornados, too, vortices on the edge of the big vortex. The abrupt edge the main path had was a surprise, too. Within 100 feet of the mass of destruction, things were as if nothing had happened.
Moisture likes to hang in the air above the parkland forest of central Alberta.
Blue mist shrouded the land every morning and evening and the full moon had a cyan cast. I watched those clouds as forks of lightning shot from them and cold wind blew in underneath, rippling the water of Pine Lake. And then, late Wednesday afternoon as I was headed back to the city under blooming thunderheads, I saw one. It was tiny and high in the sky but it was definitely a tornado, or at least a nascent one. It was funnel-shaped and the bottom twisted and turned and reached as if yearning for the ground.