The Marsh in Union Bay 



/♦ ONA SUMMERS DAY WHEN THE CAT- 



tails have just passed their prime the marsh near my home is 

 purple with the blooming loosestrife. Beneath the surface 

 of the shallow water delicate foliage weaves and undulates 

 with every passing ripple. The white and gold of the water 

 lilies make a bold contrast to the dark green of the floating 

 pads. If the day is dull, the swamp waters appear oily black, 

 but when the sun is bright, the reflections of the great clouds 

 from the Pacific Ocean are so well mirrored that they seem 

 to float in the water below as well as in the sky above. 



Not only does the area gleam with silent color, but also 

 it pulsates with life in its various phases— noisy, hungry, 

 angry, joyful, and adventurous. In the active part of the 

 seasons the change and the bustle astonish me. So many old 

 guests have gone, so many new ones have appeared, so 

 much activity is displayed by the visitors that I feel that I 

 am looking, not at a static home for a few permanent resi- 

 dents but at a place which furnishes food and shelter to 

 numerous transients. 



It is a unique place, this marsh. Man, by building the ship 

 canal, lowered the water of the bay until its margins became 



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