Bright ideas

It was the morning after a strong rain, and as the sun crested the houses on the hill it turned the droplet-studded leaves and flowers into a maze of sparks and diamonds.

Dazzled, almost blinded by the light, it took a minute to realize that the tall fennel plants in a front yard were hung with spider web: long rainbow strands looped across several plants, and tighter nets glittered around the heads of single flowers.

The spiders, always acrobats, became magicians—traversing lines of light, their own bodies blurring at the edges into incandescence.

Did they think anything was out of the ordinary as they rappelled alongside gems of dew or spun strands of flame along the fennel stems? Were their many eyes struck as mine were by the unending sparkle? Did it lend a new radiance to their work?

Or is this common-place to them: to begin their work in this unearthly early brilliance; to navigate an effulgent world; and to weave their deadly snares with threads of fire?

{A note: I do write all text and take all pictures. Please do not reproduce either without my permission.}