Go with the ebb

Tidal pond off Seaview Ave. Click photos to see larger.

Summer is winding down. You wouldn't know it from the weather – hot and humid. But you can see it in the changing angle of the sun from morning to sundown, the different shadows, the surprise splash of red foliage among the green along the bike path, the swelling pods of the milkweed. You can smell the crisp browned grasses and hear the heartfelt swan song of crickets in the wild meadow across the road from us.

Speaking of swans, our local pair has almost finished raising its last cygnet (above). He's as big as an adult, but he seems reluctant to leave the nest.

The swans have become rather tame, and like to hang out on Doreen and Chuck's lawn near the little salt pond off Seaview Ave. One day as I drove by in my car, I laughed as the father swan chased a pretty tabby cat across the grass, running pellmell on his black paddle-feet, neck outstretched, flapping his enormous wings. "Get off of my lawn!" you could imagine him hissing. All he needed to be swandom's answer to Clint Eastwood was a shotgun.

Wandering around with my camera Saturday evening, I saw families cooling themselves along our shore. Kids searched for crabs and clams along the rock jetties.

A mother and her brood sat comfortably on the old foundation wall at the entrance to the cove.

A woman who'd been lying on the beach got up for one last swim in the shallow, warm low-tide water.


Daisy, less apt to frolic and pull than in her younger days, takes her time in the heat, snuffling among grasses on the bike path as Kevin waits patiently.


Looking west at the cove: there's that light. That filtered late-summer light. It hints of autumn, but my heart says "summer" still.