I managed today to avert what could well have become a future traumatic
episode. Brought some washing in off the clothes line, dumped it on the couch
so I could fold it, then spotted something a little strange. My eyesight’s not
the sharpest these days, but even I could sense there was something not quite
right. Something was moving. Well, not just one something, but lots of very,
very tiny things. A long strand of miniature freshly hatched spiders was
attached to the laundry basket, and as I headed back outside to flick them all
off it was like letting out a decorated kite string as the breeze took it. It
was exactly like watching the end of Charlotte’s
Web, where her horde of progeny lift off, transported on fine silk threads
to find new homes and begin the cycle of life all over again. It was pretty
neat, but I was also thankful my little stowaways had been spotted before they
managed to take up residence in the house somewhere. A hundred wriggling dots
is one thing, a hundred adult spiders are another thing entirely.
Charlotte’s babies
leave the nest
on gossamer threads
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