Writing Spiders

We have these two writing spiders in the bushes on either side of the approach to our front door this summer.  Like gargoyles warding off evil. If we were illiterate, these would be powerful images announcing vigilance against an enemy. Unless you like spiders. Which I do not. They are my one thing. Do you have a one thing? Spiders are my one thing. They are present in most of my nightmares.

Hubby has been feeding them. I have even joined in. The watching of the feeding. I don't touch bugs. Unless they come near the grandbabies. Grandbabies are the trump card. Grandbabies are a more excellent one thing.

The writing spiders loved the bumble bees (carpenter bees that like to eat our deck and that we like to bat with tennis rackets for sport), miscellaneous beetles, another spider even which Hubs tossed their way. Gross.

Toward the end of their reign, we tossed a lightning bug to one of the spiders. It bounced off the web. Several times. When it finally did stick in the web, the spider ran down and kicked it off.

Mike says that the spiders didn't reject the lightning bugs of their youth. He says that the coolest thing was watching it wrap up it's neon prey.

So my take away, obviously, is that we are pickier in our old age. We have learned what tastes foul and what is yummy. Sweet. Best. And if you want to know what to choose, what is best, ask someone old. If you think their answer is off, missing it, it is because you are young. And you will learn.