Friday, September 3, 2021

Pondering the thoughts of a Spider

I'm unsure why I never noticed the stunning artistry of spiders to such an obsessive extent before. 

Perhaps because their work is best observed, dew-garlanded, sun-illumined, at dawn, and times I've walked at dawn I've generally been intent upon the sea? 

Perhaps because I've been too busy with other obsessions? 

Now, when my main reflection time is the early morning, before the heat and rush kick in, their silent work, their busy presence, the wonder of their creations, constantly uplifts and fascinates me. 

I wonder why their are not more poems, songs, art work, about the wonder of their intricate webs, how sometimes multitudes of spiders, sometimes spiders of different types, will cover a branch or bush or stand of grass in a palace of (deadly) webs. 

It seems a curious irony that if the web fulfils its main purpose - to obtain food - it will be broken. 

And I wonder at a spiders' thoughts when their constructions are maimed and destroyed by errant flying seeds or leaves, passing animals, or tempestuous weather. Do instincts merely propel them to begin again, or do they grumble to themselves and bemoan their fate? 

Monday, August 30, 2021

Chrysalis (and guarding spider)

My children don't understand my fascination with spiders, and I'm not sure my husband does either. But they're so overlooked, and their artistry is so wonderful, I'm increasingly obsessed. 

This small spider sat guard on an empty chrysalis and I was a little obsessed with how it caught the light. 


mist & weeds

I nearly didn't get up. Our dogs were still at the dog 'retreat' we'd left them at while we went on holidays, and a walk without dogs seemed a bit of a waste, but then I saw the mist. 

I've been eager for awhile for photos in the mist, so hauled myself outside. 

And after I'd crossed town to the rail trail on the far side, I was right. 

Spiders webs in mist, dew-hung, are magical. 


Ephemeral wonder

The interplay of water and light fascinates me, the way the few small drops of condensation catch the sun, glitter, gleam, glisten, sparkle. 

I wonder about how the plants hold to the water, as if capturing them, refusing to let them leave, keeping them as long as they can, their serrations keeping the dew with them as long as possible. 

The changing reflections in the short-lived drops entrance. 

Here and then gone, the ephemeral beauty pierces. 



Sea Treasures

The tide has washed away all the previous days footprints leaving the beach smooth and cool and scattered in sun-caught treasures. 

I lie on the sand for a better look at the dew caught on a small by-the-wind sailor or velella-velella, and wade through shallow water, admiring the shadows cast by the ripples, the ever-changing reflections in the clear water. 

Along the water mark are small shells and tiny blobs of jelly fish, illumined with the gold of the rising sun to look jewel-light. 

Without even my dogs to lunge and pull and stare at me with expectation, its a time of stillness, a time to observe and reflect and remember. 

Once, I had this time so frequently I thought nothing of it. Once, hours spent with myself, wandering shorelines was my normal.