27 August 2017

Web of Memories

The female and male yellow garden
spiders I found two weeks ago.
Eight legs and 22 years ago, I saw my first yellow garden spider. I didn't see another until two weeks ago, but the two events share an unbreakable link in my mind.

In 1995, my parents built a house. I remember that event clearly enough in and of itself. However, I also remember that a yellow garden spider spun its web on the new deck rail that fall. The spider made a spectacular adornment for the front porch. Its large size and vivid colors stamped themselves into my memory, becoming part of an autumn that seemed especially fresh and alive.

The chilly morning I found the spider lifeless in its web also occupies a place in my memory. I recall feeling sad to see it dead (like something special had passed beyond me). As if to prove the point about the specialness of that spider, I didn't see another of its kind until two weeks ago, a length of time that further secured that 1995 specimen's place in my mind. A long-disappointed yet ever-fresh hope of seeing another helped keep the memory of the first undimmed.

Apparently, the long wait between sightings and my fond memories for the first spider also set the stage for the second sighting to leave a memorable and lasting impression. The night before I left Washington state for South Dakota and the fall semester, I went for a walk in a field. As I moved through the tall grass, rays from the setting sun worked between the trees and scattered to my left. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a ball of yellow gleaming in the sunlight. I probably knew what it was even before I had fully focused on the sight as a spider. At least, it seemed like a rush of memories pushed the realization that I was seeing a garden spider into my mind before I achieved full consciousness of the moment. After 22 years, I had my second visit from the species, and I set out to capture the moment, returning to the house for my camera.

As I took pictures on that cool night in the brown grass with the smell of fresh rainfall in the air, old memories and a vivid, new experience wound together in a perfect, strong form. I noticed the spider's web actually contained two spiders, the second and smaller of which turned out to be the male. The next morning, I found a sack of eggs near the web. Now, I had many yellow garden spiders to remember and a continuation of a story at once old and ageless.

In the webs of our minds, some memories, though separated by time, still manage to intertwine themselves in the most natural and certain ways.

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