There is a spider by me, a little guy maybe the size of a dime if you include his legs. He is striped orange and gray, and has an intricately constructed web. I can only see the web if I focus my eyes where I think it is, then gently move my head back and forth to blur the background. I tried to take a photograph, but it is too small and invisible for my camera phone's focus to find.
There are children playing with their mom a few yards down. I can hear their voices through the trees, but all I can see is my yard and my trees. My garden, my deck, and my spider.
I haven't seen any deer in awhile, but all of the tops of my tomatoes have been munched off, evidence that the deer must visit when I am either sleeping or at work. I think about deer repellant, which I just bought, or a cage or net of some sort to protect the tomatoes. I was looking forward to eating them myself, not feeding them to deer too rude to even show themselves to me.
The spider hasn't caught anything yet. A giant version of this spider's net would trap or deter the deer, but it might puzzle the neighbors.
I love this peaceful neighborhood, but the children's voices break the mood. I wonder what we were thinking sometimes, buying this nice big house, with room to grow, in such a family friendly neighborhood. Overconfidence, I suppose. An arrogant assumption that the universe can be predicted, perhaps. Still, it is beautiful here, the house is lovely, and M and I have a very good life here. That's much more than many people get to enjoy.