When the tide recedes it exposes an alien world of seashells, oysters, barnacles, muscles, dead crabs, volcanic rock, and all the marvelous structures of the tidal ecosystem of the Pacific Northwest. Birds come from all over, on their way somewhere, to have a snack by the shore. You never know what surprises await when the skeleton of the North American plate is exposed in all its raw bare-boned tectonic nakedness.
On the sand, the ripples of the waves remind me that on Mars, scientists have found similar patterns on the barren land, memories of waves long gone. Imagine that. At some point in Mars history, we could've stood on the shore and watched the sunlight waver on the ebbing tide. Now here on Earth among the seashells and the kelp.
I see a large boulder covered with muscles, barnacles, and oysters- they cling to the underside that has been exposed to the air. I take my Olympus TG6 out of my pocket, cursing myself because I forgot the light diffuser I recently purchased. I look closely into the forest of shells on the rocky surface. Microscope mode on. Focus stacking would've given me a deeper range of focus, but it requires stabilization and patience.
The barnacles cling to the mussel as if their lives depended on it.
Then as I take a closer look, I spot something green. At first, I think it’s a seaweed, but when I look closer I can make out the small globes that resemble fish eggs. Green roe. I marvel at the globular clusters. Who deposited them in this rock? Won’t the lack of water injure them? How will they develop? What creature will sprout from these magnificent specimens?
I forget sometimes that I’m just living in this one thin slice of geological history. Temporal structures are vast and incomprehensible. They have risen and changed. Shaped our progress. So, I stop taking pictures and simply stare at the eggs. The tide murmurs beside me on the sand.
I am also reminded that at some point our own ancestors lived thrilling amphibian lives on the shore. I wonder. Have I recorded an inconsequential pattern in our long evolution? A commonplace thing. Or have I witnessed a singular moment in the history of Molluskian life?
Images by 
