Seals bask on rock.
We are on the ferry. Eight-fifteen, on an almost windless late fall day.
Fog lies here and there, moving but slowly, in Woods Hole, throughout the Sound, and over the Vineyard.
Across the sound, fog, silhouetting summer camps, seeps from Lake Tashmoo into the Sound.
Coming into Vineyard Haven Harbor, we we see heaps of fog to the south.
A white puff of dissipating fog is set off by the fogbank in the background.