I walked home mid-afternoon, hoping to beat the forecasted thunderstorms. The air has been thick with moisture today. The level of my office, about 15 stories up, was well up in the cloud.
There was a light mist, and then a little heavier rain, for the first part of my walk. After I reached the neighborhood, I walked about a block before passing under a huge maple tree. Then I heard the crows, calling with the complex vocalizations of spring breeding season. I looked up and saw the flock flying toward me, heading, as it turned out, for the tall tree. The sound and the shape said "crow," but the color was flat, light gray. The cloud was so low that even at treetop level the crows were masked by the foggy grayness.
Fog gray. It's a nice hue for crows. More ephemeral than their usual jet black, a bit ghost-like.
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