gray day on the marsh

I know I say that every season and every day outside is beautiful, and it's true, each in its own way. But recently, it has been extraordinarily so. Right outside the window in the little garden there are butterflies and hummers eating from the feeders and the flowers. Just down the berm the spartina begins, first in green waves where the grass falls over on itself and looks like an emerald version of a choppy sea. Then there is a band of taupe-ish grass that has already dried out, like all of it will be by December. Behind that rises up more spartina that looks kind of like corn, with green stalks and golden toppers. Then there is a little island with more of the tall grass, but all green. Then you come to the river, which today is a sparkling silver. The tide is receding, and the water going out reflects the green trees and the gray skies.

Two loons appeared earlier, followed by a flock of gulls on the river, followed by a visit from a bright lemony finch close to the house. Everywhere I look is peace and softness. I am having a really good day myself; maybe I am mirroring the marsh, the way the river mirrors the sky.