Sometimes I can be done with work early enough to glimpse the last gleams of daybreak at the marsh. Glorious days, those.

The marsh in rainy weather has a different feel. The soft susurrus of the rain over trees and fields, ponds and riverbanks, pulls me in.

The holidays are upon us and the marsh is quieted by the soft wind and softer snow flurries.

For more than 12,000 years, people have lived and died here.

Autumn comes, as it does, with crispness in the air, color in the leaves, and introspection in the mind.