A search for beauty between the grit.

I grew up in the lush forests of the pacific northwest (Oregon and Western Montana), so my move to Los Angeles came as quite the culture shock.  I’ve learned, over the years, to appreciate nature wherever I can find it… though I do miss the trees so much.  Lanky palm trees are ugly, under most circumstances, and the way they shed is appalling.  These weedy trees will never fill the void left by the magnificent, near magical, trees that adorn the memories of my childhood.

But I’ve digressed, I live in L.A. now.

The upheaval of sidewalks by persistent tree roots, the way little birds use street signs to house their nests, the snail-trails dotting the route of midnight voyages, and the blaze of the setting sun caught in a songdog’s eye are all reminders of the power and endurance of nature.  Of which, I greatly appreciate.

Anything that moves against the mundane pace will catch my eye.  The flicker of a bird’s shadow, the passage of gossamer caught in the breeze.  And though I must admit that I will never grow accustomed to the cockroach’s scurry, I have grown quite fond of one native resident to Southern California.  The black widow spider.

With a nefarious reputation, being the source of nightmares, how can one appreciate such a creature?

The articulated front legs and iconic hourglass marking are enough to induce chills throughout the constitution of most.  And while I have a few tales about my relationship with these spiders, and from there have even written a short story, that’s not for here.  Maybe later.

It was the way the black widow recoiled, knowing when she was being watched.  Almost giving the impression that she knew her reputation.  It was the overall shyness of such a monster that left an impression on me.

Now I’m not on some “save the black widow spider” platform.  Their venom is potent.  If they’re in an area that could endanger a person or pet then I have no qualms with the end results of such association.  But when they are out of the way, just being spiders, let them be.  When I walk by their messy, tinsel like webs, I always stop and take a look with hopes of seeing one.  I will admit that I am disappointed to notice that they seem to be vanishing.  They are being replaced by the brown widow spider.  This may induce ovation in the vox populi, for arachnophobes especially, as the brown widow’s bite is less harmful.  But for me, I suppose I have sympathy for the villain.  Sympathy for my own little Byronic heroine of Los Angeles.

(black widow-black and white by Firefly6)  firefly6.deviantart