A spider…its web…a bit of morning sun. Simplicity itself, yet the result is more than a mere tableau of exquisite natural beauty. It is a message, a proclamation that while much is wrong out there, beyond the meadows and woods, across the stream—some good things remain.
The sun still shines. A red-tailed hawk again circles high in a clear blue sky. And a mossy-backed old snapping turtle, the diameter of a dinner plate, paddles slowly around the pool, looking for a bit of sunlight on a rock or log so he can clamber up and warm himself for an hour or two.
The earth endures.
A few feet from where I stand the river mumbles in ancient tongue as it slips across the rocky riffle—sparkling, swirling, inscrutable, untiringly finding its way along the sycamore-lined path leading to the sea. As always, I wish I were going along, a fellow sojourner sharing the journey. Oh, to have the carefree ambitions of a river. Wouldn't that be wonderful?
I don't, alas…and wishing and dreaming won't ever make it so. But I have the moment, and whatever my remaining allotment of time which lies beyond. Plus I have the river and birds and that cantankerous old snapper that's still searching for his warming spot—and I have the spider and web and sunlight shining through.
I take heart. A day which begins in such beauty and telluric augury is never all bad.
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6 comments:
GRIZZ -
your words, image,- this is gratitude in its simplest, most natural and beautiful form. I am humbled.
Love Gail
peace.....
A wonderful post, Grizz ... and, at last, you've reached a glorious accommodation with our arachnid friends!
Gail…
Thank you. Life isn't simple or easy, sometimes—but if we let it, every new day can supply reason and purpose.
Solitary…
I've always been accommodating in this way with members of the eight-legged clan. Perhaps it's the photographer mode switching on, or at least the role of nature observer. Not to mention the working distance of a telephoto lens. It is, after all, a lovely piece of work.
And to be truthful, this is a borderline size spider. Ones the size of a chihuahua are what kicks in the primal fears.
It's also an outdoors arachnid, as opposed to one which has just built her web across my hallway…in which case, said offender and would have been promptly vacuumed into a Hoover hereafter.
You do have a way with words, Grizz!!
lol, I love the web too, neat to see.
Bonifer…
Thank you. My mother always said I was born talking…so I've at least had had lots of practice.
Being a photographer yourself, I'm sure you'll agree webs are regularly photo-worthy.
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