I remember wading ashore six years ago, at a place called Gibraltar Point on the Toronto Islands, and coming across an amazing sight.
Thousands of monarch butterflies clustered on a couple of trees getting ready to fly south across Lake Ontario.
What made it even more special, was that I had helped expand a milkweed patch nearby, and I thought this was my reward.
But then the next year I hardly saw a monarch anywhere.
In the garden of a waterfront theatre not far from where I live, there is a little band of bees.
They've been there for years, and time and the elements have taken their toll. Their colours have faded a little and some of their wings have fallen off.
But they're still in better shape than many of the real bees, who are being killed by human greed.
Because now it's official, they are being poisoned by pesticides.
One of the worst things about living in Stephen Harper's monstrous Canada, is having to spend so much time writing about the crimes of the Con regime.
The vile acts, the ugliness, the cruelty, the barbarism of that bestial cult that is slowly killing our country.
Instead of being able to write about the more beautiful things, the good people, and the great Canadian stories that inspire me, and make our country worth saving.
So I'm sitting on a bench down by the swan pond this evening, staring at the signs of The Apocalypse.
Two little trees that have surrendered to the Canadian winter. Already.
(click pic to enlarge)
And I'm screaming at them, in my mind. How could you do this to me? How could you leave so soon?
And wondering is it just me, or is the whole world going crazy?
