The season of being surprised by spiders has arrived. This year it’s the Daddy Long Legs variety that are appearing regularly in my hair or in the way as I navigate webs and busy little arachnids doing their autumn clean up. A money spider decided to tickle my feet yesterday and I know there’s a heck of a bruiser lurking somewhere in the bedroom but I can’t find him at present.
The late September warmth and soft sunlight are welcome. I don’t want the cold and damp just yet; I’m not ready. We had such a long and lovely spring it seems almost inconceivable that soon it will be time for thick socks and long stretches of darkness. It’s as if I’d forgotten about winter completely.
I am not a morning person on the whole. I have found getting up and getting going tricky since the age of about thirteen. I would love to be a lark and to leap out of bed with the sunrise and crack on. However, I have been making the effort to get up and get to the beach to see the beautiful sunrise, or at least the last bits of it. It is its own reward, a sublime experience, a connection between the smallness of self and the vastness of sea, sky and sun. The photos don’t do it justice, but they do record moments in time and I can look at them and remember the feeling of joyous connection.