I wonder how this poor bike, intertwined with driftwood and dried kelp, met its demise on North Beach? Although I love bikes and beaches, I don't often see them together. 

After a few days away from Port Townsend, I'm refreshed with a walk along the beach. The subtle winter light glows, and just like with snowflakes, every pattern of the waves is different.

I watched this feather drift with each tiny wave, creating ripples in the sand. Is it like the butterfly effect in chaos theory? The flutter of a butterfly's wings can cause a hurricane across the world. In this case perhaps a faraway tsunami will result? Or just serenity on my own beach?

It's not often I see a Black Oystercatcher on the beach. Last year there were six that foraged together for limpets and clams. I was thrilled today to see eight, including this juvenile. Its eye and bill aren't yet completely orange, and it's still smaller than its parents. But it's already just as noisy with its piercing call. 

White sands and turquoise waters are right here on Indian Island... although of course the temperature is in the 40s and 50s these autumn days. I'm almost tempted to jump right in for a swim...

Here's Maddie, the octopus I found in a dry heap two months ago, close to death. It was a very hot day, with the tide far, far out, and she lay atop seaweed-covered rocks on the beach. Now she thrives in her tank at the Port Townsend Marine Science Center, a dancer and a magician proudly waving all eight arms. 

The Yellowlegs are back at Kah Tai, my neighborhood lagoon, reminding me why I love to photograph birds and water. Like other birds, they're just passing through, flying from northern Canada to Baja for the winter.

Here's a rather adorable face of a juvenile Northern Elephant Seal enduring its catastrophic molt, a natural process that most survive. With climate change, some are now born as far north as the Olympic Peninsula. I was part of a group of elephant seal sitters, taking turns guarding this cute fellow from dogs and people in his second week molting. I hope he will survive.

A rusted bike, a driftwood rider... who would think to create a sculpture on the edge of the forest? I love the tilt of the front wheel and the gentle placement of the foot on the pedal. And since we're in the Pacific Northwest, of course there are fenders.

In the forests of the Olympic Peninsula, fallen tree trunks become "nurse logs" for new seedlings to grow. I found this beautiful old weathered driftwood log creating a home for Salal bushes, not in a forest, but on a beach. Don't you think the lichens add to the elegance of this terrarium?

When we left California we left the sweet but drab brown California Towhees behind. I miss their friendly visits to our deck. Here in Washington the only Towhee is this gorgeous Spotted Towhee, a secretive bird that hides in the bushes when not grabbing a sunflower seed under the feeder. After watching them hide for two years, today one sat outside our window for at least five minutes, and we finally had a chance to appreciate its beauty. I still miss the friendly visits by the drab brown Towhees.

Yesterday was a perfect day for single track riding through a wet and muddy forest of Red Cedars and Douglas Firs, its understory filled with Sword Ferns, winter mushrooms and little patches of snow. Bicycling is a bit too fast sometimes to notice everything I want to see. I had to stop to watch a Hairy Woodpecker drill and acrobatically climb a fir tree. My clothes were splattered in so much mud I hosed them off before placing them in the washing machine.

Wandering along the low tide beach today on Indian Island, friends and I stumbled upon masses of bizarre eggs none of us had ever seen before. As our group sought clues, one friend brought out his iPhone and searched "mollusks," "eggs," and "Pacific Northwest." Up popped a photo of our mysterious eggs, laid by the Barnacle Eating Nudibranch. Looking under water, we suddenly started to spot splotchy oblong brown seaslugs along the rocky shore, hundreds of Barnacle Eating Nudibranchs with cute little antennae-like horns called rhinophores they use for smelling! On a Puget Sound beach in winter... another wonder from technology.

Rather than displaying typical Christmas lights, this boat in downtown Port Townsend lights up bicycles for the holiday season. Why not? Happy holidays to all!

The only blog I read faithfully every day, http://10000birds.com, just asked readers to identify our best bird of the year. For me, it's this hopping Hoopoe that paused for a blurry snapshot beside the road on our bicycle tour of Vietnam. The Common Hoopoe isn't rare; it's found all over Europe, Asia and Africa. But what a spectacular bird, especially when it displays its striped crest, zebra back, and long insect-eating bill. I'd always wanted to see a Common Hoopoe, and it wins my prize as best bird of the year!  

Walking beside the Mallards at rainy Kah Tai Lagoon today, I couldn't help but notice the beauty of their feathers. I'd observed the shiny green head, the bright orange feet, even the tidy necklace, but had never really taken a close look before at the lovely pattern on its back, or for that matter the curly black tail feathers. Today I loved the raindrops slipping and tumbling down this duck's back, and I also loved thinking about the meaning of a saying that has given me confidence in the past. I wonder what wise person first coined that phrase?

A crab that looks like a pointillist painting? While cleaning aquariums, my weekly volunteer work at the PT Marine Science Center, I got to photograph this amazing crab as the staff moved it from one tank to another. The Puget Sound King Crab is a rare and protected species that can occasionally be seen at low tide, though I've never found one. I have loved the Heart Crabs, Umbrella Crabs, Kelp Crabs, and others scampering around the local beaches, but the Puget Sound King Crab is the most beautiful one I've ever seen.

I'm not sure what cyclists are supposed to do, but the instructions are very clear for bikes on the Washington State Ferries.