Westport
It is August 25th in a summer that feels like it has just begun, yet the signs of the season's changing are here - the roadside wall of green is punctuated with small dots of yellow and occasionally a bit of red. Last night's fall-like coolness made for a glorious dawn of gently wafting river fog and grass tips set aglow by the rising sun.
The sound of seagulls tells me I am home again. The feel of salt air carried on Atlantic breezes makes my face sing and my curls "sprungle" again. This late winter palette of ocean blue and deeply etched gray also holds the bleached golden color of overwintered grasses and just the faintest hint of the purples and greens waiting just below the surface. In this northern latitude the promise of a long dawn and lingering dusk feels like a tease as the clouds roll in. But when the sky clears the magic of the long low arcing light makes me smile.