The spiders that live under our outside table are prolific spinners. No matter how many times I sweep away their webs (apologising all the while, mind) they defiantly spin them again that very night. It’s impressive, frankly.
I took these shots a few months ago because it really looked like they were writing messages.
Can you see the “mum” in this next one?
Why are the spiders calling me mum? Enquiring minds want to know. If I were them and a human kept destroying my handiwork, I think I’d be weaving rather more emphatic and colourful language into my webs for her to read. I think my table must attract a gentler, more polite kind of spider. Or a spider with a mother complex.
Perhaps next time the spiders’ webs are damaged (I TRULY am sorry – I really hate doing it) they could call on the services of artist, Nina Katchadourian, who repairs damaged webs with cotton thread and weaves messages into them as well.
It’s utterly mesmerising (and funny) stuff.