Spiders are Magic

To start my October spooky stories and poems, I offer this little vignette about a creature that creeps out many folks. Perhaps it will change a few minds.

Photo by Andy Holmes on Unsplash

Late last night, Jeff went out to put the plastic flaps down on the tomato beds and came back in somewhat of a tizzy. "There is a huge orb spider out there."

Being a bit of an arachnophile, I jumped out of bed and followed him out to the patio. He shined the flashlight on a huge orb weaver whose gigantic web anchored between the eave and the windowsill to a patio chair some four feet away.

I gasped! Not in horror, as my daughter would do. No, this was a gift. These webs had been showing up most mornings lately and I wanted desperately to get a glimpse of the beastie who was making cobwebs big enough to snag bats. And here it was right at face level.

Jeff has discovered some time ago that he's married to a very strange woman. Sometimes bizarre, in fact. But he's learned to cope with it. Even tonight, while most other women would avoid contact with such a monster -- it measured about two-three inches across from leg tip to leg tip -- I leaned quite close to see the exquisite markings and rich golden hues of this midnight hunter. The web was freshly made, barely discernible in the light. The maker posed precisely in the center, waiting with the patience of ... well ... a spider.

Maybe you're wondering how I can come nearly nose-to-carapace with a spider. Jeff also wonders. He warned me not to get too close, even though these creatures are harmless to humans unless one runs into the web in the darkness and suffers a heart attack at the touch of spider legs upon one's face.

When I was about eight years old, my sister rushed toward the front door to go on one of her teenage social calls. Suddenly, she stopped and screamed, running to the back of the house in search of our mother. I got up to see what had terrified her. There, hanging directly in front of the door, aglow in the sunlight, was a golden orb weaver. As grotesque and horrifying as it looked to my, at that time, arachnophobic eyes, I stood fascinated as its legs deftly reeled out the silk.

Then, with a great deal of noise and fury, my sister and mother came upon the scene. The clamor alarmed the spider, whose legs flailed in the effort to get itself out of harm's way. In doing so, it began climbing UPWARD! I could see its filament glistening in the light. One long thread of silk hung straight downward then curved up as the spider scaled ... WHAT? There was nothing there to hold on to. Gravity did not rule this creature's world.

It was then that I realized spiders had been given special powers. Not only were they capable of weaving artful nets strong enough to ensnare small children, they could walk on air. On that bright summer day, when boredom was sinking into my brain, I had learned that spiders are magic.

If you enjoyed these poems, feel free to check out more in the Ring Around the Basin Archive.  .