That part of the mouth of a river where the river’s current meets the sea’s tide, and where salt and fresh waters mix, is the estuary. A pleasing word, lovelier than the brackish conditions it implies, for an estuary is deﬁned by prosaic and precise measures of salinity. The true estuarine nature is divine: estuaries are nurseries where nascent marine life is nurtured and protected. Florida Bay, lying between the tip of peninsular Florida and the Upper Keys, is a large and important estuary whose health depends on fresh, clean water from the Everglades. Pollution and decades of ﬂood control are turning this once crystalline and productive environment into a hypersaline, muddy, superheated lagoon.
The early morning turned into a beautiful day. Breezy and bright, the blue sky was patched with large, sailing white clouds blown in from the Atlantic. The sun blinked in and out of these clouds, and during the morning the ﬂood tide slowly ﬁlled the estuary, creeping up the sands, ﬁlling the tide pools, and ﬁnally, by about eleven o’clock, reaching the seawall below the house.
— Rosamunde Pilcher, The Carousel