Designs in blue and grey

 I liked the pattern that sea foam made on waves coming ashore over smooth, flat sand.

Attenuated waves

Further down the beach, with rocks making a breakwater, the only waves are sand waves.

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Me gustaron los diseños que hizo la espuma de mar en las olas que se quiebran en una playa arenosa lisa y plana.

Fotos: Las olas, que se disminuyen mientras avanzan. Y, más adelante en la misma playa, las rocas forman un rompeolas y las únicas olas son las de la arena.

Red plastic pumpkin?

I keep coming back to this photo and wondering about it:

Pattern and floater

I was looking at the patterns of reflections and transparent waves along the shore of the estuary, and this thing, whatever it was, got in the way. It looks sort of like a toy, probably plastic, draped with eelgrass from its travels. It was too far from shore for me to reach it and get it out of there.

But it makes an interesting contrast to the weeds under and above water, and the reflection of the dried grasses on the bank and the blue of the sky.

Patterns and textures, critter version

It's critter season, finally! My camera is full of beasties, taken in and around my house. Out in the grass, as I work killing hawkweed, grasshoppers and spiders hop and scramble away from my vicious weed tool. In the evenings, the kittens practice their high jumps, trying to catch huge crane flies; mostly, they miss.*

And Sunday afternoon, in Oyster Bay, I chased another of those invisible grey grasshoppers across the sand. With each hop, he disappeared, and I searched until he saw me coming and leapt away again. I gave up, eventually.

This 'hopper was more forgiving.

Brown grasshopper on a rock face, Oyster Bay. Each body part, even the eyes, has its own pattern, from mottled, to striped, to stained glass, to herringbone, to the fern-leaf design on his head.

The snail had died and left his empty shell, pitted and bleached. I liked the texture.

He's more creamy than pink, but the colour bounces off my hand.

* I'm as bad as the kittens; I just abandoned this to stand on a dresser because a spider caught a fly on the ceiling above my desk. At least I don't try to eat the spiders, just take their photos.

Ice

I had gone to the top of the hill to look at distant snowy peaks, when I looked down at my feet instead.

Ice on construction site puddle

Puddle # 2

And the view I had been looking for. Mt. Washington, again.

Fashion statement

Ma Shrimp, now that she's done with raising a family, has become quite the flashy dresser. These days, she's showing off a slinky, speckled skirt, green and black, with white stripes and a black and grey lacy frill down the front; striped leggings; a green and yellow patterned coat. And I love her new vest!

Sitka shrimp

As she was, back when she had youngsters to deal with:

In berry, last May

The other three shrimp that came home with her have all turned red as they grew, with the largest being the reddest.  All four are semi-transparent against a bright light. In the wild, that gives them double-duty camouflage; they're dark and mottled, as a fish would see them from above, and blend into the patterns of the sea floor. Seen from below, as by a crab, they match the light from the sky.

Texture and pattern in the mud

The mud-coloured, mud-loving, mud-slow Asian mud snails everywhere underfoot on our beaches are usually ignored. Frankly, they're boring; billions of half-inch cones, half buried, doing nothing while the tide's out, and not much when it's in.

Occasionally, to reset my sense of wonder, I need to get down nose to nose with one or two.

Two mud snails; the foot of one, the nose of the other.

Two feet and the underside of a chin.

The third shell, on the right, is an empty, of a species not often seen here any more. The mud snails have taken over.

Green and white

Swirling water as the ferry settles into the landing.

Foam mixed into the water makes it milky and green. Before the ferry arrived, it was a clear dark blue.

Detail

I took a quick dash over to the island for an afternoon and evening. A beautiful trip; the sun shone all day. Photos tomorrow, and then I have an old mystery, explained, for the next day.

Weathered leftovers

More photos from the vacant lot: things found underfoot.

In an abandoned cement ring, water, seeds and other detritus is caught in a spider web. I liked the patterns reflected in the water droplets.

Just a dying leaf, belly up.

Zooming in to show the pattern

Leaves and a Nike hoodie. I often find good clothes here, just dropped as if on a bedroom floor.

Well, fire-starting stuff, anyway. Part of a 4'x8' sign for "Luxury Duplexes".

Face under leaves. Another part of the sign.

Some of the vacant lot critters, tomorrow.

Patterns at low tide

Wading around the eel-grass beds in Boundary Bay, we watch our feet in case of big crabs. And the tide makes pretty patterns for us.

Clam-shell graveyard, ankle-deep. With unexpected art.

Line drawing from the photo above. (Inverted)

Crab molts, eelgrass, sand and wave fronts.

Deeper water, with eelgrass and a few shells

More shells. Gull dining room. With more artwork.

I see a few faces in that photo; a blond guy with a Pinnochio nose, a disgruntled alien, several cartoon characters. What do you see?

Bubbles over eelgrass.

We got too close to a heron, and he flew away indignantly, leaving behind a token of his displeasure.

This I'd never seen before: heron poop, underwater, not washed away yet.

Miraculous patterns

... Or at least, patterns on Miracle Beach.

Periwinkles on a rock

Driftwood face

Driftwood swirls and sand

Flowing water and seaweeds

Stoneface I

Stoneface II

Miracle Beach, Vancouver Island, August.

Of chewed wood, rock stencils, and walking on water

Our last trip to Crescent Beach was so productive that we went again this Sunday, in expectation of more great finds. Unfortunately, the tide was nearing its peak, and the remaining beach was lifeless. So was the water surface; nary a bird to be seen.

So we looked at rocks and logs, instead.

Empty sea, empty sky. On the left, the steps from 24th street, at the top of the cliffs, drop down to beach level.

Most logs float in without much damage, but every so often one looks as if it had been chewed.

Black rot or burn marks on a stump.

Beach rocks often incorporate chunks from various sources, creating interesting patterns, good imagination boosters. Laurie says these look like footprints; I see the whole section as a fish stencil.

And this is a pair of animals hiding behind a stump and keeping a watch out left and right.

Ok, now I'll be sensible. Is this a fossil of some kind? The rest of the rock is plain, smooth stone.

Something alive on shore; orange jellies on a blackened, rotting log.

Something alive on the water, after all; a man on a paddle board.

I grew up in boats, playing in skiffs and canoes. I'm fascinated by these paddle boards; it's almost like walking on water. I see people off on the horizon, standing on what looks like nothing at all, or skimming along silently, approaching those distant rafts of diving ducks, and I envy them.

I just looked up the price of one; over a thousand bucks. And I'd never get Laurie on one, anyhow. I'll contain my envy.

A Skywatch post.

Ice and flowers

November 22. One month to go to the winter solstice. Dawn to dusk, 9 1/2 hours. One more month of shortening days and unpredictable weather.

Yesterday, the temperature had dropped to minus 4° (Celsius) overnight. The bird bath froze solid, and it took four kettles of hot water to thaw it out. My begonias all died. (The stems leak beet-red juice as they thaw. I didn't know that before.)

Today, it rained and blew all day, clearing all the remaining leaves off the maples. The temperature now, in the middle of the night, is up to 8°C (46°F). The wind is howling down the kitchen stove vent.

They promise us occasional sunshine and warming temperatures for tomorrow.

Just a typical Lower Mainland November.

Last Saturday, three days ago, we went to the school a block away to vote in the morning. In the schoolyard, the grass was green where the sun shone. Children had rolled the snow off it, making large snowballs, several feet in diameter, hopeful snowmen or snowforts. On the gravel and pavement, ice made intriguing patterns in the puddles.

Friday construction materials, gone by Monday.

Ehecatl, Aztec God of the Winds, as he is sometimes pictured.

Duck on ice.

What do you see here?

The ice man.

And then, since the sun had come out, we went down to White Rock, where flowers were blooming among the weeds.

Very small umbellifer.

Gumweed, still budding optimistically.

End of the season for this one.

Patterned sepals. (Click for full size.)

Ice and flowers; that's November in BC.