I RIDE WITH A SPIDER COMPANION:

I was driving up to New York, but hadn't gotten a mile from my house when something caught the corner vision of my left eye.
Something was bouncing in the breeze. I realized it was a spider. I think at one time or another I've had a spider on my rearview mirror in cars I've had in the past. I remember one reeled out on a strand of his own silk like a kite from my antenna. But I never had one LIVING in my side rear view mirror. He tends to his web, and then goes behind the mirror. I wondered if it would hurt him if I used the electrical adjustment of the mirror... it may squash him. I just had to do it. It was just a little tilt. Later I was to find out he was fine.

He's an orb spider... one that builds those intricate webs that look like a lace doily tatted by someone with great skill. I love the look of those webs covered with morning dew. But this poor spider has to keep repairing the web after I go 50 mph or over. Today Tom and I were going to his 60th Class Reunion... he graduated in 1951. He was driving when the spider came out to either repair his web while we were whipping through the air at about 55 mph. He was bouncing on his web like a yo-yo. I introduced Tom to my pet traveling companion. I looked to my right, and saw that there also was a web on the right mirror. I wondered if it was his, or perhaps a mate? Maybe an offspring. I haven't seen that spider yet. "Do you think he has two webs" I asked Tom. I didn't really expect an answer. My not trying to get rid of the spider doesn't surprise Tom. But I was afraid if Tom suddenly saw him, like I did as a rider in the car, it would affect his driving. It didn't. The spider seemed twice as big as I remembered him. Spiders scare me... at the same time they fascinate me.

When the children were young, I stopped Joanna from stepping on ants. I said that they all had a place on this earth, and a reason for being here. I would tell the kids these things, and realize I was telling myself as well. A kid's sense of wonder is a joy to an adult, as they can not only relive that wonder through their eyes, but they can feel a deeper sense of the miracle of perfection found in tiny insects ...and not so tiny spiders. Where we lived in Vestal, N.Y. once in awhile we would see a huge spider... probably a leg span of 4-5 fingers wide... not that I'd put my hand near enough to see. If in the house I'd trap them in a plastic container, and throw them outside. I knew they wouldn't be hurt by my tossing them. But I couldn't stand it if it was on my body or clothing. I'd go into gyrations that would probably throw every joint out of place. I can't stand the things, but I also hate to kill them. Now if there's one on the ceiling, I'll poke near it with anything to make it bail out on its bungee strand of web, and I'd have a plastic or glass container to catch it, AND a scissors to cut the web. Then throw it out the door, holding on to the plastic container. You don't even have to put a lid on it... they can't get a grip on plastic ...like a Cool Whip container. They'd probably figure an escape somehow, but I wouldn't wait to see how.

So, back to my arachnid car companion. I wonder how long he'll last... or she will last. Maybe I'll call it Charlotte. I also wonder if it can see itself in the mirror. Wouldn't that be a kick... here it is out in the breeze, and he sees another in the nether world of the mirror holding on for its life as well.

Life is fascinating. Always a miracle, always a wonder.

NATURE WILL HAVE THE LAST WORD

In between downpours there was a sunny patch just before sundown, and just after we ate supper, so I took the dogs for a walk.
Everything being so wet, the fragrance was more like a salad before adding the dressing. The trees weren't dripping much, and we remained dry. The lake was placid, and no one was around. Quiet. Then on the way back we walked on the mowed path across the field where soon the golden rod will rule, and let off it's allspice aroma. Before that the brown spotted knapweed was blooming its purple mock thistle tufty blooms... a beautiful color.

The only noise was a sweet crisp "chirp" ...not a song of a bird, but a warning chirp. I tried to chirp back, but in whistling we have to tweet. I matched up my tweets with its chirp evenly... like an echo. Finally the bird was within view, but I couldn't make out the type. It didn't matter. It was a sweet little bird protesting our being in its realm.

Don't worry little bird. People can try to dominate, to populate, to pollute, to tear up the land and make a parking lot. Cities can look like scattered debris in places, like one of National Geographic's pictures of Mexico City. I honestly thought they were showing the largest dump in the world. Under close inspection you could see all the little shacks and domiciles ...no trees... not very pretty, probably it was the poorest area. But, I'll bet if you drove ten miles from that city, you would find a wet path in the evening with a bird giving warning:"This world belongs to us... Nature is going to have the last word. And that world is "beautiful."

Chloe back when young


THE CAT'S GETTING OLD

Chloe was given to me by my daughter when it wandered into her driveway-an orphan casually looking for a home... or a hand out. Having two other cats that didn't want to share, she gave Chloe to me. Chloe is a Siamese Tiger. So wildly elegant a name for a type of mongrel cat. She looks just like a siamese, but with stripes through her markings showing its mixed breeding. Coming to us as a kitten, she ruled the house and almost posed for pictures. Being wild for awhile, and Tom not wanting a cat to be indoors all the time, she was both an indoor and outdoor cat who ruled the neighborhood... and successfully kept other drop off kittens away, I think, as we've had so few throughout the years... and the few drop offs, Chloe made no mistake telling us we would have to take them to the local animal shelter, as Chloe has always been a loner. But not as of late.

Chloe would hunt for a living back then. At times during the summer, or while someone was visiting... just in case they had a dog, she would disappear for weeks on end, once we posted pictures and when no one responded, we thought she was dead. BUT THE CAT CAME BACK. We always expected she wasn't going to last long since the first time we saw her across the street below us... a road where people seldom go as slow as the speed limit. But since we got her in 1995, she has remained healthy and sleek. She was not at all needy. She'd come in to eat, grant us the right to brush her for awhile, then attack the brush. Soon she'd be at the door, and out for perhaps 24 hours. But not anymore.

Now she's getting old. It seems strange that she's so affectionate... to the point of neediness. So unlike her. I always related the word senility to crossness and unfriendliness. That may have applied to her former actions, as I could only pet her for so long, or brush her only a few strokes. I couldn't have her sleep in the bed for fear she'd scratch me if I moved my feet. She just wasn't too nice a cat back then. Now that she's getting senile it's like we have a different cat. I had to look up the word senile to be sure, and found it only meant that one's brain is beginning to deteriorate. I like it referred to that our brain cells are getting down to a more manageable size. And with Chloe, she's becoming the cuddly cat I always wanted to have. Now she's ...well... as friendly as a kitten. But when I just watch what she does, it's like she's trying always to figure out what she wants. Sometimes she goes to the door right after she's come in, she meows like she wasn't sure what she was meowing about... kind of looking around, and if you don't let her out, soon she's thinking it was that she was going to eat... or thinking she's wanting to be brushed. She just doesn't seem to know what she wants. She now sometimes goes out, only to walk around the balcony to the other door and meow to come in.

In the winter she would stay out in the worst of the cold temperatures, and I'd worry so about her survival I'd think "this is it," only to have her come to the door yowling late at night, hungry as a bear, and eat sometimes two cans of Fancy Feast at one sitting, then be off again to her doing whatever a cat does when there's over a foot of snow on the ground. I could never figure out which tracks were the resident fox's and which were hers. Sometimes she'd be up at the Lake. The first time I saw her so far from home-about 1/4 mile-I wondered if she was my cat or one like her. It seems that all Siamese Tigers look alike. I had a double take seeing one lying on the side of the road up in Montrose, as it looked so much like her. "What was she doing over 8 miles from home," were my grieving thoughts, but knew it couldn't possibly be her. I was relieved it wasn't her, and I don't think she goes much further than where I saw her that first time at the lake. She didn't come up to me, but stared at me in a way that I could almost read her mind. It seemed she said, "Don't you dare give me away to the dogs!" As she knows like I do that when she's seen somewhere outside the realm of the home, the dogs aren't sure it's Chloe or something good to attack and eat. They did that to a poor muskrat once, and it was a horrible act I couldn't believe my dogs were up to doing.

Her being so careful has been the way Chloe has survived... by being so observant and careful. I shocked the vet when Chloe was getting a rare check up and booster shots when I said, "I expect someday she'll probably be killed by a coyote!" He gave me a look that one would get if they had said the 'F' word. I didn't explain, but we took to expecting she wouldn't live long with the fast road nearby, with bears, coyotes, and foxes in the neighborhood, let alone big hawks who may have thought her a good meal, though she's always been quite skinny. If we expected it, it wouldn't hurt so much when the inevitable (or so it seemed) would happen. But she's still here 16 years later. And she's getting old and senile, which is no longer a bad word, as she's now more loving and friendly.

Chloe Now: