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Arachnid Folk Art

Arachnid Folk Art. Photo by Tim Graves

The artisan was camera shy. Photo by Tim Graves
The artisan was camera shy. Photo by Tim Graves

The gate was locked.  That was my reminder of the season. Without the typical fall rains of the Columbia River Gorge where I hike or the grey glums of my drier eastern Oregon home it is hard to know the date without a calendar. (We’ve had a warm and sunny autumn so far.)

As I turned the car in a tight circle to park outside the gate, my hiking partner exclaimed, “Look at those spider webs!” Glistening in the early morning sun two labyrinth works of art flanked a worn stop sign. You know it’s going to be a good hike when you get a bonus moment before you ever start! (See Just One More Bonus Moment.)

As I stood trying to simultaneously focus my camera on both webs, the owner showed herself. She was a tad camera shy; she moved out of my focus each time I set up. And, though, I was not successful in capturing the two webs side-by-side or getting a clear image of the creator, I witnessed her efficient food gathering device capture a small flying creature. My hiking partner, waiting about thirty-five feet away, reminded me she was ready to begin our trek and scramble to the Gorton Creek waterfall.

A smile on my face. I bid spider farewell with an appreciation for the utility and beauty of arachnid folk art.

A spider web glistening at the entrance to the Wyeth Campground and trailhead. Photo by Tim Graves



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