Speaking of Spiders

A delightful juxtaposition between this post and the last. My gardens are bearing more that simply flora, the fauna are out, too! In spite of my considerable arachnephobia, I was pleased to discover this little garden spider, Argiope aurantia, making a home in the circle garden. It's my wish that the little guy catches as many mosquitoes, gnats, and termites as its web and belly can hold. It's also the first time that I've had a member of this species of spider in my gardens, although not my first encounter with them. An experience that better defines my phobia.

It was back around 1985. I was teaching and living in central Kentucky near to the palisades of the Kentucky River. I had an apartment in the little hamlet of Wilmore, and it was a regular thing for me and some of my friends to go hiking and exploring around the cleavage of the gorge created by Jessamine Creek.

Very near the river in the hollow created by Jessamine creek was an amazing waterfall produced by a side stream to the creek. The water from the stream took a free fall of about 150 feet then exploded off of a ledge into a circular pool before brimming its edge and overflowing into Jessamine Creek. On one occasion I completely responded to a whim and took off all of my clothes to stand naked before my stunned friends on the ledge under the pounding flow of fresh water--it was just such an intoxicating place to be. Most days arriving at the falls and pool were enough to satisfy our desires for exercise and adventure.

But on one particular August day we ventured beyond the sun dappled mystical sanctuary of the falls to the place where the creek met the Kentucky river proper. It turned out to be a delta in the opposite plain of a concave arc on the river's never unwinding meander. It was a field with an ancient tobacco barn at the far end of its long abandoned soil--the current bumper crop being wild flowers with Golden Rods dominating. And who among us could resist the allure of a decrepit and listing barn well past it's own need for human interaction? So we did what all men in the prime of their lives do when presented with the possibility of discovery, we charged forth amidst an adrenaline induced frenzy of yelps and desire to be first to reach our certain treasure.

Now, if you've been in such a situation, you may know that feeling so alive will drive you beyond any reasonable examination of your actual circumstances. So it was that we found ourselves smack dab in the middle of this gloriously appointed feral field with it's various wildflowers and golden rods which actually reached beyond our 6 foot tall frames, when we discovered that we were also covered in a mesh of delicate, milky webbing....

Then one of my friends saw the first large yellow and black Argiope aurantia piggybacking on my shoulder -- (It was not unlike the scene from "Stand By Me" when the boys discover the leeches) -- and after that our eyes knew what to look for. We were covered in webs and spiders, and we were surrounded by webs and spiders! God help those poor little spiders because we freaked out in unison and finding whatever implements of sticks we could, we beat ourselves a path back to the mouth of the creek after beating one another with them to remove as much of either the webs or spiders as we had haplessly contracted before our need to flee overwhelmed all of our other sensibilities.

We never got to the old barn, and I still feel the webbing and spiders crawling on my flesh as I type this. I also feel a little sense of pride in knowing that I am not a slave to my past experiences. Life is a journey, and my foolish youth doesn't have to rob me of discovering something new, something beautiful in my adult present.