along came a spider

"Little Miss Muffet" by John Everett Millais
“Little Miss Muffet” by John Everett Millais

This morning started off with a blood-curdling scream – mine. I was minding my own business, loading the dishwasher, when I turned to glance at the clock – and there, dangling right in front of my nose, a spider hanging from the ceiling on his thread. Now I won’t tell you how big he was because I have no objectivity when it comes to spiders, and anyway, as far as spiders are concerned, size makes not one iota of difference. They all loom large in my consciousness!

Well, it didn’t take long for the knight-in-shining-armor, well, the knight-still-in-his-pajamas, who had been minding his own business working from home today – thank goodness! – to scramble down the stairs ready for battle. What he found was a woman cornered by the sink, wielding a dirty spatula most ineffectively. He performed the required deed swiftly and promised the poor spider an honorable burial at sea. After giving a warm hug and some soothing words to the lady-in-distress, he went back upstairs and a moment later I heard the toilet flush.

As I returned to cleaning up after breakfast and waiting for my adrenaline to stop pumping, I decided that perhaps it was time to share my spider saga with my readers – one never knows from where inspiration for a blog will come!

It all began when I was about three years old, although my parents are a bit hazy about the time frame. We had moved into the house they built in the woods when I was three, and I was still young enough to be playing outside in the summer with no shirt on… I was sitting on the front porch when a spider let itself down on a thread from the gutter, landed on my bare back, and started to bite me. I started screaming and running away and around the house, my parents chasing after me and trying to figure out what was wrong with me. When they finally caught me and discovered the problem, one of them said, “Oh – it’s only a spider.” I’m not sure I ever saw the culprit on my back, but as I’ve mentioned before, I’ve always been highly sensitive, and from that moment on developed a profound fear of spiders. In my childish brain I couldn’t understand how “only a spider” could inflict so much pain and terror.

Unfortunately for me, spiders are strangely attracted to me and they actually do seek me out. Must be my pheromones or something, but as anybody who has ever spent any time with me will affirm, they do manage to come to me while ignoring all other humans in the vicinity. They usually drop down from the ceiling, but once I was lying on my bed reading when one popped up at the foot of the bed and started charging straight for me. Once I was on a treadmill at the gym, where the ceiling was at least two stories high, and one dropped down from it, right in front of my nose, causing me to panic and stumble and make Tim, on the treadmill next to me, wonder why on earth I was suddenly flailing around.

Now I know spider encounters are supposed to be messages from the universe that I need to pay more attention to my creativity. Believe me, I have the best of intentions to stay calm and appreciate the message the next time I see a spider, but they always startle me and the outcome is always irrational panic.

The spider nightmares began in 1972, when I was 15. I suppose they were an expression of the anxiety I felt about moving to a foreign country with my family. I had never moved before, and had never been overseas, not even for a trip. We were to take an ocean liner from New York City bound for Athens, Greece the next day. We were spending our last night stateside in an aunt’s one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan, and we were packed in like sardines sleeping on cots – all the women in the bedroom, all the men in the living room. Many relations had come to see us off.

Well, in the middle of the night I “woke up” to see a spider coming down from the ceiling toward me. Naturally I screamed! The light came on and I pointed to it. A bunch of groggy aunts, my mom and my sister were asking, “what? where?” I pointed and pointed but no one could see it and they finally concluded that I was having a nightmare. Eventually I didn’t see it any more and realized it had to have been a dream. These spider nightmares have been with me off and on ever since.

It’s amazing sometimes that no matter how well you think you may know another person there is always something new to learn. Tim & I were married in 1975 and that is when I met my sister-in-law, Fran, and we have been as close as sisters ever since. Somehow one evening in 2007, 32 years after we met, Fran and I got to talking about dreams and made the startling discovery that we both have had the same recurring spider dreams! While having this dream we are both convinced that we are awake and keep pointing (sleep-pointing?) to the spider as it moves across the wall or ceiling, trying to convince whoever is in the room with us that it is actually there and being frustrated that the other person can’t see it. If alone in the room, a blood-curdling scream brings someone in soon enough. Only half-jokingly I theorized that in past lives we must have both been eaten by a spider and were somehow destined to be linked in this life, too, by marrying two brothers. Fran decided that we had been flies…

So those are the highlights of my spider tale. There have been too many real encounters and dream encounters to ever possibly tell them all, but that’s enough of this subject for one day!

Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

science, mystery, wonder

zebras by Gary M. Stolz
zebras by Gary M. Stolz

Science is not meant to cure us of mystery, but to reinvent and reinvigorate it. … I love science, and it pains me to think that so many are terrified of the subject or feel that choosing science means you cannot also choose compassion, or the arts, or be awed by nature.
~ Robert Sapolsky
(Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers)

an ancient disease

This morning we learned that late last night another one of Tim’s brothers, age 57, survived a heart attack. I’ve come to the conclusion that September is heart attack season. You may recall that last September one of his brothers, at age 51, had one, and Tim himself, at age 54, had one in September 2007. It will be interesting to see if the three youngest brothers make it out of their 50s without repeating the pattern laid down by the three oldest brothers.

Apparently the gene came from their maternal grandmother, who didn’t survive her heart attack at age 54, and their maternal great-grandmother, who didn’t survive her heart attack in her 50s – not sure of her exact age. I remember Tim’s mother was thrilled to have made it past the age of 54, only to succumb to lung cancer at age 60.

Egyptian Princess Mummy Had Oldest Known Heart Disease

Poor Princess Ahmose Meryet Amon – her name means “Child of the Moon, Beloved of Amun.” A CAT-scan of her 3,500-year-old mummy revealed “blockages in five major arteries, including those that supply blood to the brain and heart.” Interestingly, “The new study suggests that genetics may be even more important than thought in causing atherosclerosis, and the mummies might hold clues to which genetic factors are involved.” Tim’s cardiologists were certainly very interested in his medical family history. Researchers have yet so much more to learn about cardiovascular disease.

evening scenery

9.11.11 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
9.11.11 ~ Mystic, Connecticut

Sunday night we decided to have supper at the health food store in Mystic and then take a little stroll along the Mystic River. We wound up eating outside and enjoyed a little tourist-watching. The summer tourist season is fading away… The old salts at Schooner Wharf must be tired of having their gravel parking lot thrown into the river, rock by rock. (see signs above) We didn’t see the attack seagull, but then again, we didn’t dare to even touch a rock!

9.11.11 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
9.11.11 ~ Mystic, Connecticut

The brick building across the river in the next picture used to be an elementary school called Mystic Academy. Now it is a “senior care community” called Academy Point at Mystic. Some of the people living there must have rooms with fantastic views…

9.11.11 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
9.11.11 ~ Mystic, Connecticut

The reflections of the clouds in the water were delightful…

9.11.11 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
9.11.11 ~ Mystic, Connecticut

A boat color coordinated with nearby homes…

9.11.11 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
9.11.11 ~ Mystic, Connecticut

When we started to drive home we finally noticed the huge almost-full moon. So we made another stop at Eastern Point and took a picture of her, looking towards Avery Point. With the moon illusion at work here, she looks much smaller in the picture than she did with the naked eye…

9.11.11 ~ Eastern Point
9.11.11 ~ Eastern Point

I found this interesting explanation at Grand Illusions, but I don’t really comprehend it!

The first problem is for photographers. A wonderful picture presents itself, with the full moon just rising above a spectacular horizon. Click, the picture is taken. Yet the result is disappointing. The moon seems much smaller in the photograph than it did when viewed with the naked eye. Even professional photographers fall for this one. Yet on a normal lens, 50mm on a 35mm camera, the field of view is around 50 degrees, and the width of the moon, subtending an angle of 0.5 degrees, will be 100th of the width of the photo! Many photographs that you see in magazines, containing both a moon and a landscape, will be composites. The landscape will be taken with a normal lens, the moon taken with a telephoto lens, to get a bigger image.

harvest moon

"The Harvest Moon" by George Hemming Mason
“The Harvest Moon” by George Hemming Mason

Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.

Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

~ Carl Sandburg
(Under the Harvest Moon)

migrants in time

image by Mosborne01
image by Mosborne01

In many ways, constancy is an illusion. After all, our ancestors were immigrants, many of them moving on every few years; today we are migrants in time. Unless teachers can hold up a model of lifelong learning and adaptation, graduates are likely to find themselves trapped into obsolescence as the world changes around them. Of any stopping place in life, it is good to ask whether it will be a good place from which to go on as well as a good place to remain.
~ Mary Catherine Bateson
(Composing a Life)

keeping the channel open

“The Dancer” by Pierre-Auguste Renoir
“The Dancer” by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening, that is translated through you into action. And because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you.
~ Martha Graham
(Dance to the Piper)

peach season

9.5.11 ~ Gales Ferry, Connecticut
9.5.11 ~ Gales Ferry, Connecticut

One day I would have all the books in the world, shelves and shelves of them. I would live my life in a tower of books. I would read all day long and eat peaches. And if any young knights in armor dared to come calling on their white chargers and plead with me to let down my hair, I would pelt them with peach pits until they went home.
~ Jacqueline Kelly
(The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate)

Today we went to Holmberg Orchards to pick a few peaches for Tim. There were some nectarines ready to be plucked, too – lucky me!

9.5.11 ~ Gales Ferry, Connecticut
9.5.11 ~ Gales Ferry, Connecticut

On the way home Tim spotted a gnarly old tree sporting a few mushrooms!

9.5.11 ~ Groton, Connecticut
9.5.11 ~ Groton, Connecticut

And after a lot of fuss and bother in the kitchen, a portion of homemade peach cobbler for my honey!

9.5.11 ~ Groton, Connecticut
9.5.11 ~ Groton, Connecticut