Well, I suppose I spoke too soon about checking in on her, because my new writing spider buddy has already moved on. I read that they tend to stick close to the same area throughout their lifetimes, so I hope she’s somewhere nearby, safe and sound and spinning a beautiful web.
I’ve mentioned before that I’m not particularly squeamish about bugs and other creepy crawlies. (Except snakes.) I find them pretty fascinating, actually. (Except snakes.) So when Graham snapped a shot of this colorful lady while he was out doing some work on the house yesterday, my first thought was, “What a pretty spider!”
And she is, isn’t she?
I did some research today, and it turns out, this giantess is an Argiope aurantia, sometimes called the writing spider. They’re known for the patterns they weave into their webs, which often look like X’s and Z’s. They’re not aggressive, but they will bite if provoked, and they tend to stay in one place throughout their lifetimes. And an interesting bit of folklore: It’s been said that if you tear down a writing spider’s web or try to harm it, the spider will build a new web the next day with your name written in silk, thereby cursing you with bad luck.
So, I’ll leave her alone, then. Which is my general rule of thumb anyway, when it comes to spiders.
But it does feel sort of appropriate to have a writing spider close by. I certainly don’t plan to bother her, but I think it’s pretty likely that I’ll check on her every now and again, if only to see what new patterns she’s created.
I more or less inherited these little decorative plates after my grandmother died. My dad’s mom, that is.
I don’t remember a time when these weren’t hanging over the stove in her kitchen, and I always liked them. Graham had to be convinced to hang them in our house, but I put my foot down. Fond memories make a house a home.
I hadn’t really thought much about them for years until I saw a post over on Suzassippi’s Lottabusha County Chronicles, talking about her fondness for fruit motifs and small town variety. Yet another thing we share, it seems.
I don’t really know much about these plates. There’s no maker’s label on them, other than a sticker that they were made in Japan, and I don’t know where my grandmother picked them up or how long she had them. But they certainly have a place in my house.
Funny, how little things can become beloved heirlooms, isn’t it?
It’s been a really busy year so far. I’ve not had a lot of time to just sit and do nothing, and neither has Graham. We’ve both been working hard, trying to balance our own goals and personal projects, time with friends, volunteer work, actual work, taking care of Annie and Gatsby, house stuff… It’s been a lot.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m fulfilled, and very happy, and I generally enjoy being busy. But sometimes, it’s just nice to take an afternoon and slow down.
Graham hasn’t had the chance yet, but I took advantage of my small to-do list today and used this afternoon to just relax.
I took a long nap, watched some TV, did a face mask, and ate snacks. It was amazing.
I’m feeling sort of guilty about it now, because there are certainly things I could have been working on, but I think it’s so important to give yourself time. It’s a gift many of us struggle to allow ourselves, though we tend to dole it out freely to other people, to work, to things that make us unhappy or stressed.
But our time is finite and valuable, and we deserve to have some of it just for ourselves.
My to-do list will be there tomorrow. Until then, I’m taking it easy.
I try not to stop into antique shops very often. Very much like bookstores, I can’t seem to leave them without an arm full of stuff and with a much lighter wallet. But, I made an exception over the weekend. And I’m proud of myself! I only came home with two things.
This darling little glass jar with a monogrammed lid:
(I wonder who it belonged to, what they used it for, and how it came to be in a shop for sale…)
Yes, I know it’s an ashtray, and no I don’t smoke, but I love the floral pattern and the colors. And it goes nicely with another cut glass ashtray I got as a gift many years ago. (And I’ve just realized that it seems I’ve accidentally started an ashtray collection…)
I love collecting old things. I love the stories they tell, and their little chips and imperfections. They remind me of people, I think. Imperfect, but valuable and beautiful nonetheless.
This picture popped up on my Facebook memories earlier this week.
I’ll admit it’s not a great photo. But I remember this day well, because I’m fairly certain it was the last time I had my grandmother’s chicken and dumplings.
I was visiting my parents in southwest Virginia, and my grandmother made a batch just for me. I insisted she didn’t need to do that, that I just wanted to see her and not to trouble herself over me, but stubbornness does run in the family, and she’d already made up her mind.
Looking back on it now, I’m glad I took the picture, and glad she did trouble herself. And very glad indeed that I ate almost the whole batch.
I’d lamented last week that I hadn’t seen a single cicada in my yard, and who should stop by shortly after but this little weirdo! I didn’t see him in person, sadly. He was hanging out on the bush that Graham can see from his desk, and Graham snapped a picture before he flew away. Not ideal, sure, but I’ll take what I can get!
Brood X. That’s what they’re called. Billions of cicadas, emerging from a 17-year underground nap, all over the Northeast U.S., including Northern Virginia.
These critters are seriously fascinating. I know they’re a little odd to look at, but they’re just the sort of oddity of nature that I find super compelling. (I’ve never been particularly squeamish about bugs. Well, except ladybugs. But that’s a post for another day.)
I hear these little winged weirdos are pretty good for the environment, and, though I’m not brave enough to try them, one restaurant nearby is even serving them in tacos.
It’s too bad I haven’t seen a single one at my house. Those pictures? My sister-in-law, who lives a few towns over, took them. This one, too.
Apparently, I live in a tiny pocket of Loudoun County that sees a different brood’s migration. I’m disappointed. I feel like this should be the soundtrack of my early summer…
The fox kits that live under our barn have been extra active this week. Look at them!
They’re almost grown! They’re so big, you guys. And their little tails are so fluffy! I’ll be sad to see them leave their den, but red foxes tend to stick to the same area their whole lives, so hopefully we’ll still see them around from time to time.