spent Saturday in the tidal marshes, south of the River Shribble. I rafted along the waterways in late afternoon under an immense sky, and anchored in a peaceful spot near a lone wigwam. Setting up my easel, I painted the pocked purple clouds that peppered the heavens. Then, just before sunset, a Marsh-wiggle emerged from the wigwam to angle for eels. Violet skies blended with cadmium reds, and the muddy greens of spartina and needlerush faded as the sun touched the distant horizon. Clapper rails rang out, and the peace of eventide crept upon all of the wetland prairies.