Spiders

I would like to start by saying that I have arachnophobia.  And not in the typical, girly, "I hate spiders, snakes, bugs and anything that moves" kind of way.  I'm just innately terrified of spiders.  It's the creepy, crawly too-quick way they move.  My mother always tells me the story of when she first realized that I was afraid of them.  Apparently before I was even talking we were out on the porch and I saw a spider - I just stood there, pointed at the spider and started to shake.  No shrieking or overly theatrical dramatics, just simply stared, transfixed, and shook.  The same thing still happens today.  In spite of this crippling fear, however, I'm still fascinated by spiders.  And as long as they're not moving I enjoy watching them.  One summer I even looked forward to watching the banana spider outside our window - it was so beautiful and powerful and amazing.  

Long story short, when we were up at the country over Thanksgiving on Sunday morning we all woke up to go for a walk before breakfast.  As I slipped out the door and looked out at the field there were hundreds and hundreds of jewel-like orbs of web strung between the stalks of the grasses, glistening with dew like little tiny floating fairy lights.  I was completely fascinated by them.  

I've always loved big cow skulls dominating an earthy but sparse room in the tradition of southwestern homes.  I'm working my way up to a big cow skull.