Rain pelted the dining room window. Erratic gusts of wind created pools of wavy water on the outside deck. Giant evergreens swayed and bowed to one another as black rolling clouds created an eery warning that this was a foreign wind. It blew from a strange direction.
I gathered my lunch dishes from the table and walked into the darkened kitchen. An unease settled across my shoulders. I had to return to the dining room and hold vigil where I could watch for branches turned into threatening projectiles.
As I set up my laptop on the table, I noticed a huge spiderweb beaded with raindrops, eye-level, just outside the window. A corpulent, beige, speckled-bodied spider rode the turbulence as she clung dead center on the web. “Where did you come from, little one? I haven’t seen you before.” I’d been sitting in the same chair for weeks and had not seen this web. Her choice location, normally untouched by wind, rain or sun, kept her aerial pantry a secret.
Typical of our West Coast, the raging downpour stopped within a half hour. The sun came out. I could re-open patio windows to receive aromas of a cleansed earth.
I noticed the web again.
Water droplets clung to each strand of the web. The spider moved from the center toward outer pathways, droplets falling as she made her way. When she arrived at the outside she reached out for the strand in front of her and shook it.
Then she moved along the cleared strand and took hold of the next one. Shake, shake, shake.
“My gawd, you clever little spider! Look at you!” She continued making her rounds swiftly and thoroughly.
No damned raindrops were going to prevent her from having dinner.
Do I need a storm to see these exquisite wonders in life?