Spirally Black Mounds

I wandered down to the beach at 7am, as I’ve yearning to for the past few days. I was excited. To dissolve into cold, crashing waves. To sit by the endless ocean, among thousands of little specks of sand, just existing with no place to be.

Low tide this morning caught me by surprise. In previous mornings, the water level had been perfect, flooding the bay with flowing, clear waves. Today, not so much. The rocks were visible once again. Local waded out to fish from atop them. Where waves once were, strange spirally black-specked sand mounds dotted the bank.

It can’t tell you what they are. But they were arranged in such a strange way. Crafted with purpose and form; but scattered sporadically. Perhaps they’re a part of the reason for the murkiness that invades the bay when it lies still. Are they formed by some animal? They remind me of the little crab holes that dot the beach at Coolum every year.

It’s possible that they were always there, just submerged, and I’ve been stepping them this whole time.

What does this mean? Absolutely nothing. I don’t have a clue. But it is always curious just to observe things changing; watching as details you could never previously see reveal themselves. Seeing the underbelly brings perspective. Even if you have no idea how to interpret it. The waves come back, and you’re swimming again. The cycle repeats. Maybe next low tide, they’ll be a different residue left behind.