Big broad blue empty river this morning. Glorious sun, long white clouds criss-crossing overhead. Not a boat when I got down there or for some time afterwards, though eventually, a single rushing yellow ferry, and a green tug slowly pulling -- yes, actually tugging -- a black barge downstream. I wonder why they had to do that on the holiday? And whether they're having turkey onboard the tug, which is one of the big, substantial ones, might be a cozy Thanksgiving feast. Gadwalls munching moss on the pilings, a bufflehead popping up and down (we've had two pairs for a couple of weeks, early for them), four Brants flying downstream, the gang's all here.

On days like this -- bright, quiet, though I must admit it occasionally happens in the wind and rain as well -- I sometimes have a glimmer of hope. Maybe we will, in fact, find some way out of the numberless messes we've made. Perhaps future people will be able to live comfortably on this beautiful planet.

Hold that thought. Happy Thanksgiving, youse all.