The morning after a lovely, needed rain here in Ontario, my husband and I took a meandering walk along a lakeside path running beside pine woods. The air was thick and full of fog, even though the sun was doing its best to drink up the sparkling fairy drops on each branch and blade of grass. We walked slowly in the humidity, conserving energy.
You know the feeling. You wonder why in the world you’re not back in the air conditioning sipping your favorite breakfast drink. You look at your watch, push your glasses up on your nose…
And then we rounded a bend so that the sun spotlighted dozens of freshly woven spider webs flung from milkweed to pine branch, from Queen Anne’s Lace to tall grass, almost all the webs with the tired but proud spider sitting in the centre, one foot over the arm of her easy chair, surveying her new creation.
Shooting into the sun I captured a minuscule bit of the moment, mostly by chance, as I carried only my iPhone and really couldn’t see its screen.
Sometimes we writers do that. We shoot into the sun and hope the story will tell itself.
I thought of Charlotte’s Web, E.B. White’s stunning story for children which so captured my adult mind. Overnight these Charlottes created magic after the thundering rain of the night before had destroyed their homes.
Sort of makes me think of critics and reviews and suggestions and thoughts of failure. Perhaps we need to weave our own new webs, fresh and clean, sparkling in the sun.
Sometimes I’m Charlotte and sometimes I’m Wilbur and sometimes I’m just not even in the book. Which one are you? Haven’t read Charlotte’s Web? Do it now and then leave a comment about its lessons or, alternatively, a life-changing book you love.