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bless this house

Bloged in family, life, metaphor by rod Tuesday August 24, 2004

(people who read this post also read writing with eight legs

Last summer, when we first moved, these guys were all over the place. We also had every variety of spider one could imagine, in abundance. Everywhere.
One Saturday morning when I went out to cut the grass, there were seventeen writing spiders in the bushes across the front of the porch as if the front lines of a blockade. Each in the center of her own orb, writing warning messages for all who may attempt to break through the line. Achtung! Avviso! Verboten! Attention! Warning! Posted! Some Pig! Terrific!
There was one nocturnal spider that I never got to see up close, though she could be seen from 30 yards away. Definitely the largest orb weaver (I learned that from WIll) I’ve ever seen. Every evening at dusk, she would climb the oak tree beside the porch and position anchors. Then she’d swing like Toby Macguire over to the porch and down to the bushes and anchor the other side. She’d work for awhile on a web large enough to catch bats, owls probably. You could watch her work from up at the street as this gargantuan spider appeared to casually walk through the air, eight legs waving. She’d write the evening prayer before settling down for supper. God, bless this house.

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