Why do blogger have to change things, just when everything is running smoothly?
Well, I am posting this morning's blog in the hopes that it works!
Harvest time, Michaelmas (Sept 29th), the dying of the the year - yes it is that time
again, when there is a smell of decaying vegetation in the air, when the nights are decidedly
cooler and even during the day time there is a hint of cooler weather to come.
It is also the time of those enormous 'harvest' spiders who seem to come out of the
woodwork and gallop across the carpet just when one has settled down for the evening.
In our back sitting room the carpet is a creamy-fawn and spiders show up very well as
they scuttle from the safety of one piece of furniture to another. There could be spiders
in the kitchen as well, but as the 'carpet' is dark green they are well-camouflaged there.
If the farmer spots one he keeps quiet in the hopes that I don't see it. If Tess spots one
she watches it warily. If I spot one I shriek and pull my legs up on to the settee. Poor old
spider, it isn't doing any harm. Why is it that so many of us are so terrified in such an irrational way?
I am reminded of a story from my past, which I may have told on my blog before - but if so and you
are a long-time reader, you don't need to read it again.
When we lived in the Midlands, we had a bungalow with a very long garden. At the bottom of the
garden was another road and a couple of middle-aged spinster sisters who lived there used to very
kindly watch over our house when we went away on holiday.
One year when we returned, they rushed over to tell us that a teenager from higher up the road had been
acting suspiciously at the bottom of our garden. He had a glass and he tipped something behind the
bushes. They suspected drugs (one of them was a Special Constable).
My then husband, who worked in the Prison Service and had years of experience with such things, went to
the house where the youth lived and knocked on the door. The lad came to the door (his parents were on
"Now lad, what were you doing in my garden the other night?" - my husband no doubt used his best prison-voice.
The lad looked very shame-faced but admitted that he had used the well-known glass and postcard method
to collect a spider from the carpet as he was very scared of spiders. He didn't want to kill it and he didn't
want to put it in their garden in case it came back inside. So he carried it down to our garden and popped it behind a bush!
My husband told him he could put spiders into our garden whenever he liked!