I’m up, but not quite with it, so I’ll try easing into the morning by way of some slow spiritual journaling as I encourage mind and body to tune into this Lord’s day.

It is late August and, as always, Charlotte has returned. I swept away her web twice yesterday. I regret this, but I didn’t want my friend, Milly, to panic if she saw a plump, juicy body dangling from the roof of the balcony.

After my first attempt at home wrecking Charlotte scuttled up and away as soon as I came outside. She did it again today. Does she equate the sound of the door or my physical presence with danger? Is it cleverness or simply survival instinct?

What an incredible skill the Creator has given these creatures. I wonder how it feels to spin yards of thread from one’s abdomen. Does it tickle? How much can she spin before the bobbins run out? Does she get frustrated and tired (Out of sticky thread again?)and have to rest and resupply herself? How in the world does she do that? Does she cry when wind and rain batter her neatly woven strands and guide lines into a tangled mess or when an annoyed human plows into her completed web by accident or whisks it away on purpose?

I marvel at the mystery and economy of her life. Her home satisfies her every need. It is her work and her God-given talent, her larder and resting place. It is her artistic endeavor.

I hope and pray it is her absolute delight, but if she decides to winter in here, I will be moving in with Ed.

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