Fog

The fog comes

on little cat feet

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

C. Sandburg

Not long ago I awoke to one of the softest mornings I can recall.  Fog had come in during the night so thick that I couldn't see where my backyard meets the orchard.  In fact, I really couldn't see much of anything at all.  The thought occurred to me, now is the time to take some photographs!   By the time I reached the Cutchogue Harbor Marina it was beginning to slowly lift, muting sound, wrapping me in it's warm blanket.

This marks the fourth anniversary of

From The North Fork.