It’s easy for me to fall under the spell of high tide beauty when colors shimmer in the water and seals swim partially submerged looking for grub. Lately, I’ve begun to appreciate the beauty of low tide, too. Mud flats. Protruding chunks of wood. An old tire rearing its muddy self. Walking on the finger pier, I notice crabs and sea slugs. Low tide brings out the herons and egrets who fish with long beaks, bringing up wriggling morsels and kelpy salads as well. Paleo before it was hip. I like to gaze under the dock at all the pipes and lines that run from shore to the houseboats bringing in water & power, taking out discharge. Peering up from below the dock, the unsightly becomes visible. Such a contrast to the beautiful, eye catching houseboats that send our cameras clicking. Chekov said, include the compost piles in your stories. There’s beauty to be found in the underbelly view. A man from Japan I once knew described wabi sabi like this: everyone appreciates the beauty of a cherry tree in April; appreciating its beauty in December, that is wabi sabi. Beauty has many shades; subtle as well as dramatic, acquired as well as reflexive. Turns out that the beauty of low tide, and the strange appeal of hoses and lines below the planks where we walk, have their own strange spell over me.