A green anemone carpet at Agate beach tidal pools

What is this love of strange spongy creatures who blossom into flowers when we are not looking? I brought my boy on this mystery, both of us reflective in the rocky waters of a promising minus tide.

Some flowers die with their organs exposed at the most unlikely times. The forms that make us up are beautiful beyond expectation. I cannot look away although I feel inclined out of respect.

The crumbling cliffs shout to us from time to time as the sun shines summer-like on the day that the groundhog did not see his shadow.

As far as the eye can see life is caught in unexpected circumstances - equanimous - the tidal cycle etched on DNA.

We see the flower finally in full bloom, a symphony of mystery until folded and quieted by one tender touch.

What a different sight when animal-flowers are pulled to sleep by the absence of water. A carpet indeed, but I dare not step. My desire to discover the mysteries of this intermittent place is replaced by a caring for all creatures who must find a safe place to sleep.

We are all caught in the tidal pool of time and place. We must open to the mysteries etched on our DNA and reflect clearly to all who come looking the truth of what lies within.