There are these huge crows/ravens that live in our park, much bigger than the normal size, to me. Apparently, this is new to many of the staff here. They talk to each other quite often, and whenever I'm in the park, they scare the bah-geezes out of me by being completely silent, then squawking loudly and staring directly at me. With the dreary weather, I am beginning to feel like I'm in some Edgar Allen Poe poem.
Random Fact: Adding to the mystery surrounding Poe's death (he was found wearing someone else's clothes and kept saying the name "Reynolds"), an unknown visitor affectionately referred to as the "Poe Toaster" has paid homage to Poe's grave every year since 1949. As the tradition has been carried on for more than 50 years, it is likely that the "Poe Toaster" is actually several individuals; however, the tribute is always the same. Every January 19, in the early hours of the morning, the man makes a toast of cognac to Poe's original grave marker and leaves three roses. Members of the Edgar Allan Poe Society in Baltimore have helped in protecting this tradition for decades.