Boxing Day

The grey lady is suiting up for New Year's. The ribbons of fog that were strewn across Wauwinet Road early Sunday morning have woven themselves into a full-on blanket. The sky appears clear overhead but the day is hazy and the crispness of a late fall has left. The trees are at their most barren - it is just moments after the last leaf has dropped but months from when the first springtime chartreuse will peer from its home in the branch of a brave tree.

The ocean is thick and the waves hard against the south shore. Everything has taken on a blueish tinge. Even the low brush at the moors, usually a reliable red, has turned to maroons, mauves and purples. The dead grasses at Sanford Farm stand out, a bright ochre, the only burning color I have seen all week.