summer haze that left the sky pale and 

 milky. It's a perfect time to launch a 

 colorful kite and watch the colors play 

 against the deep blue. 



If I'm lucky I may be treated to 

 another visual treat: the fall migration 

 of butterflies. These colorful beauties 

 — monarchs and sulphers — skitter 

 along the dunes, feasting on the nectar 

 of fall wildflowers. 



Many of the dune plants that have 

 survived the summer's scald choose the 

 fall to dress the dunes in splashes of 

 violet, magenta, yellow and cream 

 blooms. The butterfly pea offers 

 blossoms of pale violet, while sea 

 oxeye, goldenrod and camphorweed 

 flower in hues of yellowy gold. The 

 creeping morning glory splashes the 

 dune swales with large, creamy 

 flowers, and the pink wild bean adds 

 touchs of bright pink with its lobed 

 blossoms. 



Along the top of the dunes, the 

 beach grasses stand at their yearly 

 tallest and the sea oats have unfurled 

 their spikelets of tawny seeds. Both 



wave majestically in the fall breezes. 



The beauty and solitude of the fall 

 beach make it an inviting avenue for 

 long leisurely walks. As I wander along 

 the surf's edge and wade in the warm 

 tidal pools, I occasionally stop to study 

 the beach wrack: an interesting shell, a 

 gleaming black rock ground smooth by 

 the surf, chartreuse sea lettuce, a dried 

 seahorse still clinging to a piece of 

 brown sargassum weed. 



I pocket a shark's tooth — a good 

 luck token that I liken to finding a four- 

 leaf clover. And yesterday's storm has 

 left behind an interesting assortment of 

 sea whips. This soft coral comes in a 

 variety of colors: orange, yellow, 

 purple or white. The coral's spindly 

 branches belie its true animal nature. 



After my stroll on the beach, I 

 cross the dunewalk back to the cottage. 

 But a soundside pier beckons me for a 

 few moments of estuarine exploration. 



In the fall, the marsh grass is an 

 intense green. It makes a striking 

 picture — the bright green grass 

 against the dark blues of the sound and 



the sky. The glasswort has donned its 

 fall coat of red. With the showy 

 flowers of the marsh pinks and the 

 pale purple flowers of the sea laven- 

 der, the salt marshes are brilliant with 

 color. 



The sound is quiet now too. The 

 jet skis and motorboats have been 

 docked. Only the occasional call of a 

 marsh rail hidden in the grassy thicket 

 breaks the solitude. 



Soon formations of ducks and 

 geese will be riding the tailwinds of 

 passing storm fronts as they push 

 southward. Some stop to feed on the 

 bounty of the marsh: grasses, weeds 

 and seeds. Others may choose to 

 winter here. 



An exposed oyster bed at low tide 

 reminds me of my favorite fall treat — 

 steamed oysters. My mouth waters at 

 the thought of a plump, briny oyster 

 dredged in real butter sliding down my 

 throat. 



That image spurs me to action. I 

 head homeward in search of my keys 

 and the nearest seafood dealer. □ 



COASTWATCH 17 



