It's dark when I get up at 6 am, the
first hint of a new day on the horizon; the forest floor has turned gold and green as the cedars shed their summer cloak; honeysuckle leaves litter the boardwalks and garden ground;
bright red honeysuckle
berries are being plucked by tiny wrens; jays are sitting in the apple tree, feasting on the fruit we imagined as apple pie; the last roses are fading; fronds of great bull kelp are landing on the beach, food for next year's garden; the sudden daybreak howl of sporty boats heading to the hot fishing spots where we have our hydrophones has gone; sea lions are beginning to heave their huge bodies onto haul - out rocks along the way; most of our assistants have left, heading back to school or home; and in their absence we are spending more time in the lab at night, recording the voices of the orcas, who are still here.