A Spider Finds Dinner
and teaches me a lesson about writing
“Whack!” The noise jars me away from the Instagram story I’m creating on my cracked iPhone. Nestled under my down comforter, I look up to find David standing next to the bed with a dirty t-shirt in his hand. He’s staring at the wall with a serious face of concentration. “What are you doing?” I ask, irritated at the interruption. Seconds later, wings flutter out from behind the curtain. I scrunch down and cover my head with the comforter.
“Whack!” I hear again.
I peek out from my cave and timidly ask, “Did you get it?”
“I think so,” he says, bending down to see if the creature has met its death. “Oh! He fell into a spider web!” Excitement drips from his every word. “This spider just found its dinner!”
My curiosity is piqued. I pepper him with questions. “The spider is going after it? Is it a moth?! How big is the spider? You should film it!” I’m a little unsure if I should be thankful or appalled that there’s a spider web big enough for this flying insect he has just caught.
He informs me it’s a fly and that the spider is a skinny one with long legs. I imagine this act of nature happening in a dark corner of my bedroom and can hardly believe I’m comfortable lying in bed next to where it’s happening.
I remember when a camel cricket jumped out of my underwear drawer. I was ten, maybe twelve, getting dressed for school one day. I unassumingly pulled out the drawer to grab a pair of socks when an insect bounded out of its hiding space onto my floor. Screaming, I ran from the room and begged my mom to find and kill it. And now, here I am, some thirty years later, thinking about how cool it is that a spider is eating the fly my husband just whacked on the wall.
The bright light from David’s phone turns off and he gets into bed. “Did you film it? Can I watch it?” I ask, and he plays the video for me. I first notice all the dust bunnies around the spider web—we really need to clean tomorrow, I think— but then I become fascinated by the spider’s work.
She carefully settles her body over the fly and begins swinging her legs up and down as if she’s doing a tribal dance. I hear music in my head as she sways. Her motion makes me want to get up and dance. Back and forth, up and down, she moves like a see-saw. Wrapping silk around this treasure she’s been given.
She weaves her silk over and over again, constantly moving until finally, her work is done. She stops for a moment—to take a deep breath I’d like to think—and then sits next to her carefully wrapped package.
“There’s so much I don’t know about nature,” I say to David. “Do you feel that way too?” He is silent for a moment before replying; “Yeah,” he says, in a low drawn-out voice. He’s as fascinated by what we’ve just seen as I am. I make him get out the good camera and take some pictures. “I want to write about this in the morning,” I say, “and I’ll need a good picture to go with it.” It’s 10:30 at night and we should be asleep, but nature has called and we won’t refuse to answer.
The click of the camera becomes music and I replay the scene in my mind. This spider has found a treasure. She didn’t have to hunt for it. She simply weaved a web and waited. Eventually, a treasure was dropped into her lap.
But she doesn’t devour the fly right away.
She wraps it up. She saves it for later. She does the initial work of preparing it—her body spinning silk around what will eventually become her feast. And then she sits with it a while.
We leave the spider to sit with her prey and fall asleep for the night. David checks the web when he wakes up this morning, certain that all he will find is a dry corpse. But it looks as if the spider did some more work on it throughout the night. The fly is completely wrapped up. Like a mummy preserved for the afterlife. The spider sits off to the side. Waiting.
I don’t know when she’ll eat the fly. I don’t know how long she’ll sit with it before she decides it’s time. There’s probably some scientific answer (or maybe not; I didn’t look it up) but my guess is that she’ll know when the time is right.
I’ve spent a good chunk of my writing time over the last months collecting treasures. I’ve journaled about experiences, written words and phrases that I love, and made notes of emotions and senses that I found intriguing. It’s important work for every artist—this collecting of treasures—but it sometimes feels like it’s not very productive. I have pages filled with words, but I can’t seem to turn them into anything worth submitting. My brain is full of stories and connections but I can’t seem to find the words to pull them all together. But maybe …
This little spider who has found a home in a dark corner of my room is reminding me that my job as a writer is not to hunt for stories. My work as a writer is about weaving a web of experiences, then being willing to wait for the treasures to appear. It means living in a state of awareness. Always ready for the treasure to drop. A willingness to do the work of collecting; of spinning the silks to save it for later. And then, having the patience to sit with it for a while.
Trusting that I will know when the time is right.
On My Bookshelf
The stack of books I’m currently working my way through. I finished A Room with A View, but if you’re going to read Forster, I recommend Howards End instead. When we were stuck in our AirBnb on a rainy day last month, we stumbled upon the BBC mini-series. A friend from book club recommended the book and once I watched the first episode I was hooked. I was impressed with how it tackled socio-economic issues, especially considering it was written in 1910. And if you need a second opinion, I’m not the only one who thinks this way.
During the height of the pandemic I subscribed to NYTimes Cooking and have not regretted it for one second. This year they released No-Recipes Recipes and after previewing it from the library, it’s on my Christmas wishlist. I love how it gives you parameters to work with and encourages creativity in the kitchen. It’s a book that teaches you how to cook without a recipe, and I am here for every bit of that.
I never considered myself a Jodi Picoult fan, but I noticed a fantastic shift in her writing after reading Small Great Things last year. I was excited to snag a copy of The Book of Two Ways from the library last month. Beautifully written, Picoult addresses what it’s like to feel pulled in different directions because of life circumstances beyond our control. The main character is a death doula, which I found fascinating, who was once studying to become an archeologist. I loved that part of it is about Ancient Egypt and was completely floored to see part of the Book of the Dead at the MET during our spontaneous trip to NYC just last week.
In My Kitchen
The seasons have shifted and so have our meals. The Tomato Margarita (shown above) is my new favorite cocktail. It goes well with Stuffed Eggplant Parmesan and homemade pasta on the side (but you can totally use the store-bought pasta!)
With cool and rainy weather in the forecast this week, I’m turning to Minestrone Soup as a way to use up some veggies in our fridge. I love that you can edit this recipe based on what you have already. No shopping required!
This Fried Cauliflower is my new favorite way to eat cauliflower. Even my cauli-hating kiddo loves it. It’s excellent in tacos like the recipe suggests, but it also makes a really great grain bowl with some sauteed zucchini or roasted winter squash. Use what you have!
From the Interwebs
I was intrigued by this interview about the new show Impeachment and it sent me down a rabbit hole reading about where Monica Lewinsky is today. I made some really stupid decisions as a young adult fresh out of college, and am terribly grateful that none of them were in the public eye. We have a forgiveness problem in our society. Some people are forgiven entirely too easy while others wear their sins for the rest of their life.
Did you know there’s a Human Library where you can borrow a person instead of a book? It’s a brilliant idea really. It may be the only way we will be able to take steps towards fixing that forgiveness problem we have.
This essay wrecked me. I loved every single thing about it. It made me feel eleven. And twenty-one. And forty.
This sestina about what it’s like to work in the pandemic ICU is raw and gut-wrenching and should be read by every single person in the country. Read it. Pass it along. Maybe save a life or two.
In Case You Missed It
Poetry was the theme of the summer for me. I discovered writing poetry is harder than writing an essay and requires many more drafts. I shared a name poem I wrote several months ago, a poem about my asparagus plant, a poem inspired by a sermon on John 6, and a poem that started with a text to my husband. I also had some fun with spine poetry, creating a poem about becoming mothers and one about leaving Atlanta.
I tried to run away and found solace in the story of Jesus and his disciples hunting for rest.
Finding myself in a hard season for writing, I celebrated the simple act of facing the page, I chased the light, and I came home from a spontaneous trip to NYC with new stories to tell.
We released three monarch butterflies this summer. Sammy, our third and final, was the hardest to let go.
And as part of the Exhale Blog Hop this month, I wrote the truth about our decision to homeschool.
A Favor to Ask
It was so good to spend August resting, reflecting, and collecting. It’s also so good to be back here, in this space, curating and creating for you. Every writer needs an audience and I’m so grateful you are part of mine. I am honored for you to read my words every month. Would you do me a favor this month and share it with a friend?
Until next month,
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Hi Crystal! It's Kara from Exhale. I *adore* spiders and have learned a lot from them. I loved your story.