Monochromatic skies, waters wide, fill the void while the marshlands sleep. No, they never sleep. The winds gust freely across the open ranges of the tidal marsh. Natural channels and ditches dug by farmers long ago take the tidewaters through all levels of this landscape, rising, flooding, falling, withdrawing, a twice daily ritual to which all of its abundant life responds. Close to my heart are the willets and their piercing calls. Following them as they patrol the skies often leads me to other shorebirds or raptors. I hear them in the distance as I click the shutter.