Just When You Least Expect It ...

So I'm walking along the path into my backyard, when I sense it. I stop just in time. A huge (and I mean huge) spider's web stretches from the deck railing to those once-lovely shasta daisies. I can't see the owner of the web, but I return with a broom to sweep the web aside. I do this for the next five days, wondering why the energetic spider continues to rebuild. I do feel guilty, but there is no other way into my yard.

Today, armed and ready with my broom, I finally spot the spider, smack-dab in the middle of his handiwork. By the time I return with my camera, he's taken refuge under the handrail. He's huge, so big that I'm not even sure you have to click on the photo to enlarge:




Now I'm afraid to go past the railing -- if he was able to jump all the way to the garden while spinning his web, he'd have no problem leaping out at me as I walk by.

I've emailed the photo to my daughter and husband, warning them about the hidden danger (and treasure) in our own backyard.

Spider Sense

Last summer, I noticed a very large spider lurking outside our house. Its tunnel-like web intrigued me, though not enough to make me get too close. I always checked for him whenever I went out to dump the compost because ... well, I always felt better if I knew where he was. You'll have to click on the photo in order to get a better view.

I looked online to see if I could find out what kind of spider he was, and found this:

The Funnel Web spider is a robust, hairy spider with long legs and a body length of 12 mm. It nests in the corner of garages, basements and other ground level areas. Its web is a flat funnel that leads to a short tunnel. It can deliver a painful bite but is not poisonous except to those who may be sensitive and are allergic to spider venom.

Spiders kind of freak me out. I don't mind them, as long as they stay away from me. One night in bed, I awoke when something tickled my lip. I thought it was my hair, so I brushed it away. Then I felt the tickle on my neck, and knew immediately that it wasn't just a stray strand of locks. I clutched the tickler in my fist, and threw it on the sheets. I fumbled for the switch on my bedside lamp, then frantically searched the bedding beside me. The spider's legs were all curled up, and it was now most definitely dead. I looked at the ceiling and walls for more of them, but realized that spiders don't hang out in herds, so I was probably safe.

Did you know that you'll eat about six spiders in your lifetime? For months after that night, I fell asleep with the corner of the pillow case over my mouth. I still get the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it.