Cold and bright by the river this morning. Way out at the end of the piling field a big black-back gull -- black wings, white chest -- chased another off a piling and sat on it himself. The first one flew around awhile, finally settling nearby as though that was where he'd wanted to be anyway. A male bufflehead, looking like a black-and-white bathtub toy, bobbed up and down, fishing. A black-hulled, white-towered tug chugged along, passed by a speeding black-and-white patrol boat. One of the small, quick ferries, which are black and white, zipped by in the other direction. I came home and changed my flannel-lined blue jeans and down vest for black pants, black shirt, white sweater. Who am I to buck a trend?