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 |   Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life. |
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I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance? I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them. Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog. |
| Henry's gone. Spiders are clever little things and hunting spiders are downright scary smart.  They will watch you to see what moves you are making and adjust their routes and moves accordingly. They also get into tight little spots that may be extremely comfortable for them but are highly inconvenient for you. A couple of years ago, a spider crawled into the area of the digital clock on my stove and refused to leave. He just stuck his body in front of whichever bright green numeral he liked and got in the way of accurately timed baked goods. We got rid of the stove, but not because of him.The other night, I glanced at the thermostat in my bedroom because I wanted to know the temperature in the room. I often check it these days when it might be chilly  one night and warm the next  . The addition or removal of blankets and the opening or closing of windows are all subject to the vagaries of October weather. I know everyone thinks of October as cool and crisp but that's true only part of the time. November is a much nicer month but that's an argument for another day. I glanced at the thermostat. It was close to 70 in the room, so the window needed to be opened. But in the mostly darkened room, I couldn't figure out what that blob was on the face of the thermostat. I didn't think about it for long, as I was anxious to get to dreamland. The next day I looked more closely and discovered a very dead-appearing spider lying upside down INSIDE the thermostat, behind the tiny, clear circle of plastic where the temperatures are chosen and measured. I thought about how I needed to get that dead spider out of there but it didn't seem urgent. Later, when the upside-down, dead spider had returned to life, righted himself and moved within his tiny space, it began to feel urgent. I didn't know if he might accidentally change the setting and turn on the heat or possibly short something out. I called my son and DIL-to-be to look at it. He pulled off the front ring of the thermostat to see if we could get the spider out. We couldn't. There didn't seem to be any way into that space. Son tapped on the plastic face trying to urge the spider to move. DIL-to-be named the spider Henry. I don't name spiders. I either ignore them or kill them depending on where they are living, building webs or dangling.  Perhaps because he became shy and disliked being the center of attention or perhaps because the Son chased him round and round with the thermostat red temperature arrow ("I made him run laps," he said), the spider found the way out, the mysterious route than no human can find. I noticed his absence the next morning. "Henry is gone," I announced. The damn spider now has a name. That's going to make it harder to kill him when next I see him. But I definitely will kill him. It's too dangerous a precedent to set. |
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