Everyday spiders weave the woods back together. On my morning walk I see shining webs whole again. Webs I broke yesterday on the trail. Strands shimmering in the sun. Their fresh gossamer sticks to my hands and hair.
The spiders are everywhere, stitching twigs to leaves, shrubs to trees and rocks to the ground.
Rocky Creek is wide as it rushes across the rocks. It seems the spiders have tied their webs to secure the water and land to the sky.
I sit among the rocks listening to the tinkling water. I am far from the bustle of city life.
The world is beautiful.
One day I watch a garden spider weave its web above me. Peddling its long legs around and around a few long threads. It lands motionless in the middle.
Spiders have adapted to their vulnerability. When I blunder into a web the spider scurries up a single thread. It has no new technology. Spiders spin and spin as they have done for centuries holding the world together.
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