It is a clear sky above, as blue as it gets here on the east coast with 3000 miles of land for the prevailing winds to cross over. On the west coast in similar conditions the sky would be a pure blue color that almost hurts the eyes to look at...the visual equivalent of a pure aural tone.
The spartina has finally given up all of its green. It is now clad in greys below the high tide mark and reds and golds above. But, it still stands proud, the mild autumn having produced no snow to push the grasses flat. The birds are winter birds, relatively few in number and spaced well out except for the ducks. It is crows and gulls until I get to the stone arch bridge where I flush a great blue heron. Just beyond that, I watch 3 hooded mergansers by peeking around the next bend.
I have passed the nose of the tide by the time I reach the Foote Bridge, the current against me and the water shallow enough to signal my return.