rsvp to the anarchid rally

This post is my response to ecotone's (March 15, 2004) biweekly topic: Spiders And Place:

On Sunday, which was what, March 14? I was in the early grip of exhaustion from my third bout with some kind of flu bug or other, my throat raw, my mood even crabbier from the unrelenting heat wave that has swept over us in such a rush. There was that March 15 deadline looming over at ecotone, but I thought I would skip this one, for what can I say about spiders, anyway? They don’t paralyze me with fear – but nor do I go out of my way to hang out in their company. I admit, I am careful to save the odd little spider that “comes up the water spout” and then promptly gets lost in the vast emptiness of the bathtub.

Then again, most of the spiders I come across in the house or in the garden are small, thin – in other words, fragile-looking and in need of protection. (The black widows in the darker recesses of the garage are another subject ... and, having lived this long in California, I know how to spot their presence ... which they certainly advertise with bravado!)

So, imagine my surprise when, at around sunset, I went to close the door to deck off the kitchen area, and, in the window next to the door, I saw the reflection of something rather large, almost bat-like, swaying in an out of focus. Synchronicity, it seems, brought me the opportunity to spot the largest spider I have ever encountered in my backyard so far, and the first one ever to give me a slight shiver. I guess, size does really matter – and although 2 inches may not be anything to croon about, when you are a spider, that could put you easily on the smooth road and into the fast lane to boasting. This ferocious arachnid Arnold had already spun a large orb web, which looked like a batter’s cage as it already covered the upper half of the window.

There wasn’t enough light – nor did I have the requisite skills – to capture the truly frightening hairy features of this creature with my camera, but here is what I stared at through the lens:

My spider encounters didn’t end here. This business of synchronicity, like the heat wave, was bent on lasting statements. I was in no mood to make dinner, what with the heat and the flu taunting me, so I decided to go to the store and buy plenty of ingredients for a refreshing salad – a version of fatoush salad that I have been perfecting. When I reached into the neat row of hearts of Romaine lettuce, I felt a shock shoot up from the tip of my finger, through my arm, right through my shoulder. I assumed I got an electric shock of sorts, and it wasn’t only after a minute or so that I noticed the swelling on my finger. There were no wasps to be seen (aside from those few shoppers that have descended from their well-appointed hives from exclusive neighborhood on the hill behind the store and were walking about with their stinging attitude....). But there were plenty of bugs in the lettuce, as I found out later when I made the salad, all of which made me think that the jolt from finger to shoulder came courtesy of a spider unhappy at the prospect of losing its brunch buffet of bugs at my hands.

So, although I tried my best to avoid writing anything about spiders this week, they spotted me and saw and easy mark. "Hey you," they called, "you have a spinnerette, don’t you? Use it then ... make your own orbed web. Thread the words, sticky with the essence of our command performance for this post ... and if you can’t catch anything tasty or nourishing this way, know that you were here, snug in the center of your own flimsy web."

Posted by maria at March 16, 2004 11:09 AM | TrackBack