Looking outside today, I noticed what we used to call as children a “writing spider.” In actuality it was a garden spider. This beautiful arachnid boasts a bright yellow and black abdomen, an orange head and long slender black legs. I often wonder at God’s creation, its beauty and splendor made for us to enjoy.
As a young lad staring out my bedroom window one fall, I could have sworn a writing spider spelled my name within its web…curious. Could this have been nature’s way of letting me know my calling prior to the actual call of becoming a writer?
I have no way of knowing; however, it is a tad enlightening if and when I choose to ponder such a silly notion. In fact, the older I become the more ridiculous the whole scenario seems. If I were of a mind to, I’d have myself committed to the ludicrous writer’s asylum…but enough of me.
Back to this wondrous spider. I find it fascinating that the juvenile garden spiders are able to spin webs without mommy or daddy’s help. Do you realize that’s equivalent to a six month old human child riding a bike without training wheels?
…Do the training wheels really matter at that age?…I think not. What a silly thing to say, but I shan’t erase it due to the evidence needed to gain entrance into the asylum.
And what I really find fascinating is the male spider’s determination to copulate. This unwavering horny toad very often reaches its intended malnourished and exhausted dying after it does the deed.
“What a way to go,” some would say.
I favor, “Live to copulate another day.”