Dear Readers, after a long day in the office (front of the house), I went into our bedroom to get changed into something more comfortable, and spotted a spider, seemingly floating in mid-air.
It took me a second to realise that not only had this spider moved in, but she had actually made a web going from the ceiling to the duvet.
Goodness, Bugwoman, I thought, I know that you’re making the place friendly for wildlife, but I suspect that your husband might think this is a step too far. Fortunately, I had a glass to hand, and so I gently removed the spider and popped her onto the climbing hydrangea outside the open window (which is probably how she got in in the first place).
It made me think about how quickly a spider can spin a web – this one clearly wasn’t there when I woke up, so in the space of about eight hours this extraordinary structure had been created. And I was very lucky, because another spider was making a web right across the path to the shed in the garden.
It’s a funny old time at the moment – I’m still working, but on 15th September I’m finished, and I feel very ‘between worlds’ – wanting to do a good job at work, anxious about taking this step into the unknown, eager to get on with my new life, sad to be leaving my old one. But there is something so very grounding about just sitting down and watching this everyday miracle taking place, preferably with a cup of tea in one hand. The lad next door is having a bath and playing some Latin American music, which somehow seems to blend with the whole sunny, late-afternoon vibe.
I loved watching how the spider produces the silk from the spinnerets at her rear end and then manipulates the strand into position in a process that’s almost too quick and neat to see.
But, yet again, this wasn’t the best place for a web, and no sooner had she finished than we had to go to the shed and there was nothing for it but to barge through all that hard work in order to get to the secateurs. I do hope that she finds somewhere that will be a bit less disrupted tomorrow.