Saturday morning I woke early and noticing the misty morning I decided to walk out into the calm before the household woke up.
Truth be told, spider webs drew me out. When the foggy dew beads up on the fine silk of the webs there is just something magical about it. (Even if the spider does not think so. I imagine it to be quite annoying to them, but it evaporates soon enough.)
Spending time getting up close with these little architects gives me an appreciation for the struggles faced during the day and how getting the work done, over and over, day after day, is just part of life.
And things don’t always work as planned. The moth above flew right into this web as I was snapping the photo. Just as quickly it fluttered free and the spider, who had sprung into action a little too late, returned to waiting patiently for the next opportunity to come along.
Sometimes getting wrapped up in the big picture feels heavy and unbearable. Sometimes it feels like there is no purpose, no light. But then I take a slow, purposeful walk around the yard, down the trail, at the seashore and I see the little things that make up this big world, and I know it is not my place to know everything, not my job to solve all of the problems, not my knowing everything that will make it all better. Sometimes it is just the noticing, the acknowledging, and the caring that make it all make sense.
If you are like me, and wonder about just how those droplets manage to form on spider silk, you might like to read this.
Thanks for taking a web walk with me and pondering things big and small.