We lived here for over a month before it rained, but rain it did, all night Saturday night. We lost a salt and pepper set, a decorative jar of matches which turned out not to be waterproof, and a lot of paper napkins. It hadn’t rained in so long we’d been leaving stuff outside, and just forgot.

Starting Sunday, we have entered a seven-day period of “Minus Tides”, so-called because the low tide level is a negative number. It isn’t obvious to me why it should be negative, but shortly after I looked it up I decided that finding that answer is a bigger project than I want to undertake at the moment. Tides are complicated!

The minus tide is a neighborhood event because it connects our beaches and extends our tidepools. Since we live in a cliff area, most of our beaches are relatively short stretches bounded by rockfalls on either end during low tide, and completely underwater during high tide.  During minus tide, the sea is pulled back far enough that you can walk around those rockfall borders, essentially connecting the isolated beaches.

We have tidepools during all our low tides, where one can see a few urchins and anemones, clams and barnacles, and sometimes chiton. But there were many more than usual today, plus other non-tidepool animals: fish, crabs, and several that reminded me of that gradeschool project, create your own sea creature. Sadly, most of these new creatures were dead. It was interesting but also disgusting, except to the sea gulls. People had theories–the storm? the sea foam? –but no concordance.

The most common new creature both dead and living was something most called a sea slug, although I believe this is a fairly meaningless popular name. It does resemble a land slug, though larger, ranging from the size (and shape) of an ocarina to perhaps as large as a tissue box. Most were black or muted colors, not the dramatic images from the Internet, but very satisfyingly wriggly, with prominent, shiny antennae.

I approached a woman who appeared to be listening to the cliff, and she explained that when you put your ear close enough, you can hear the community of barnacles. It’s true; it sounds like humming or buzzing or clicking, faint but distinct. She also pointed out many other small creatures in the crevices and interstices. A speaking, living, rock; I love it.