These days can be ever so quiet.
Some mornings the marsh is filled with geese and gulls, but other days the honks and screeches are far away.
A pair of foxes might criss-cross the marsh before dawn, tracing the edges of every island, but leaving no evidence that they found a single mouse to eat.
After sunrise, though, a warm blanket slides across the land. If I look close enough I see that some life forms have hardly changed their rhythms.
It’s hard to squeeze through to the logs at the bottom of a thicket, but once there I find rich colours of moss and fungus, soaking up sunlight and holding on to heat as they help this tree become soil again.
In the grasses on a south-facing slope I also find treasures. Wherever I spot one snail shell, it seems, I only have to dig a bit deeper into the matted grass to find several more.
Did our gastropods end up here under their own locomotion, I wonder – or do raccoons, skunks, or other creatures favour this flank of the marsh as a picnic ground?
Perhaps next summer I might return to try to answer that question. But today, as a cold north wind blows over top of the hills, this sheltered slope is a great place simply to savour the sun’s warmth and to savour the sights close to land.