This morning Seamus, the forecast icon on our electronic thermometer, wears a tee shirt and sun glasses while clouds obscure the top half of Douglas Island. Seamus is a fool or liar. After wrapping Aki in rain gear she and I head out to Outer Point.

A week dominated by clouds and some rain must have demoralized the people of Juneau for only birds and marmots share the trail with us. Summer has started its slide to fall. Skunk cabbage leaves stand two feet high in the forest bogs and still tart blue berries have darkened to their harvest color. Flavor comes later but I still try a few berries in hopes of finding a juicy precocious one.

The sun makes a surprise visit as we near the beach. “Don’t get smug Seamus,” I mutter, “It’s only a sucker hole.” Still the shafts reach like spot lights to the understory, turning ordinary tree moss to museum quality patina. A marmot’s warning whistle startles us while still in the woods, answered by another on the beach. Aki talks offense and dashes back and forth between the whistlers, barking without effect. The Marmots whistle on.

On the beach a strip  of sun light runs along the surf line. I head for a small patch of sunny beach just now exposed by the ebbing tide.  Aki and I stand there for some time, warmed by the sun while small surf sings us a gentle song.