Guardian at the Gate

One morning not far into June, I opened the door here at Dragonfly Cottage to find a new resident moved in at the gate that's just a few feet from the front step. Click on the image to get a better look and hopefully you'll see the huge spider web spun during the previous night, cleverly anchored from the edge of the door's metal awning four feet above the fence. S/he chose the right-hand side of the gate, placing this shimmery insect-collector out of harm's way as to the human's coming and going. "Whoa!" I said aloud, stopping in my tracks to admire the engineering feat, marveling as I often do at the incredible diaphanous weaving swaying gently in the morning breeze. There was no sign of the Weaver, but several morning's in a row, I detected new reinforcing strands or repairs made to the previous day's wear and tear.

One evening I came home just after dusk had settled in, and as I came through the gate there silhouetted against the last light was the Weaver himself, (gender intuited) impressively large (not surprising given his web) and sitting (if spiders sit) in the exact middle of his beautiful creation. "Nice web!" I told him, "Good luck tonight." Not sure what he thought, but I felt it only courteous to speak, meeting up at last with what I'd begun to think of as the Guardian of the Gate.

I am charmed by my summer resident, honored really that such an impressive web-architect chose my front gate. It is now just past the 4th of July and my spider-neighbor is still very much "in residence".  Arachnophobic I am not, being one of those "types" who will gently remove spiders from the house by shooing then into a glass, capping it with a paper, then releasing said-spider outside in a more suitable (to my mind) habitat.

This is not my first long-term spider companion. Many summers ago, a smaller spider set up her home on the window ledge of my writing room. Her webs weren't the orb-sort but a lace mesh design that effectively got her what she needed. She was only two feet or so from where I sat to write, and I enjoyed watching her at her tasks, sometimes even at night busy with her spider-life. We communed now and then, since I know she was well aware of me on the other side of the glass, so close. I'd be away for a few days and when I returned was always happy to find her still there. It was a tumultuous summer for me, and more than once she was witness to a weeping woman and lots of muttered-aloud thoughts as I wrestled with the vicissitudes of my life. Calmly she carried on her spider-doings day in and day out.

The days shortened with Autumn's coming, and yes, there were two plump egg sacs carefully tucked in the upper corner. She still pursued her spider-life, a bit slower it seemed to me, and I spoke directly to her a time or two, knowing an end was approaching....I wanted her to know how much I'd come to enjoy her faithful company. Then a heavy frost, and I entered the room the next morning knowing what I'd find but dreaded to see. She lay curled up and unmoving. I thanked her a final time and moved her gently into the corner of the window casing. Some weeks later a cold breeze blew and the sill was at last completely empty except for the two egg sacs tightly secured for the future. I cannot recall the fate of those sacs....hopefully what she'd worked for all that summer happened exactly on schedule. But I remember her still, most fondly.

Not sure where this new spider-connection will go, but at the moment, he's showing himself a bit more often, in what I feel is a sense of trust. He's been witnessing my going-ins and coming-outs for a month so far, so our neighborliness is by now well-established. I've seen the sun's first rays shimmer through the dew drops in iridescent sparkles on the freshly-rewoven web, delighting me all over again at his artistry.

If there's one thing I know for certain, I am fortunate to be twice-blessed in this lifetime with such a fine journey-companion.