Spiderwebs

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars… Jack Kerouac

Whidbey and I were headed for an early morning walk a few days ago, up to the top of Mt. Finlayson, about a one hour loop walk. Linda had to leave for Seattle on the 8 am boat, so there was no conversation that morning, just walking. We three take this walk about 3 maybe 4 times a week, and it is one of Whidbey’s favorites.

She likes the wide pathway, lined with grass full of bugs, the occasional deer or fox to get really excited over, but mostly she practices her kangaroo hops into the grass chasing bugs and mice. It was a beautiful start to the day – warm, calm, blue skies, a perfect summer day lay sweetly before us. We had been having an unusual wet spell and this was the first really nice day in a while. It made us feel good.There was dew on the grass, courtesy of the week’s rain, and the sun was just peeking up over the trees to the Eastern slope ahead when I suddenly noticed that the field was full of small spider webs, visible from the dew and the sunlight. They looked like a patchwork quilt of shiny silk, and they covered the fields before us. My first thought was, wow, those little spiders sure were busy last night, and then I realized how ignorant that was. The spiders didn’t weave all of those webs last night, they are there all the time, we just don’t see them. It took just the right combination of sunlight, moisture, and time of day for them to be visible to me.

I love these little “ahas”. They are a delightful metaphor for the things we don’t know of because of our narrow perspective or limited field of experience. We go through our normal day, without any thought to the wonders of the world we live in, it’s small miracles and little beauties. And then the stars explode, and it is all right before you. There all the time, you just didn’t see it. Thank you little spiders; thank you for the gift of surprise and delight. Hope to see you tomorrow morning.