Orange marigolds. All that's left in the garden.
The Man worked today at cleaning out the beds, ripping out vines and plants, turning over the dirt. But he left the marigolds. They are the last of the color in the garden.
Thousands and thousands of these helicopter seed cases flutter all around. On a windy day, it looks like snow falling.
Most of the leaves in the yard are dull brown but every now and then one stands out, in full color, brightening the bunch.Another sign of fall.
This greeted me one morning as I was heading off to work. It may not look like much in this photo but that web was big.
And no, I'm not exaggerating. Despite what the Man may think, I can accurately describe the size of a spider and it's web, unlike some of the fishermen in our family who may take certain liberties with the sizes they report.
When I looked down the clothes line, the spider had built a lot of little webs between the lines. And had web strands flying all over from the roof of the porch to the clothes line.
That spider had to go.
Only I couldn't find it.
Not that I was looking too hard. I wasn't going to kill it. I just wanted to know where it was so I could report to the Man. And let him take care of it.
It hid for several days, and then finally, on Saturday morning, I found it. I stepped out onto the back porch, and there was a gigantic web in, and above, my chrysanthemum pot.
Right outside the back door.
With a pretty.darn.big.spider sitting in the middle of the web. And several large insects next to it.
I skedaddled back into the house, found the Man, and carefully reported my findings. Maybe a little enthusiastically, but truthful, nonetheless. I told him I thought he should take care of the spider before I got home because I think the spider was eyeing the house, like it was thinking of moving in for the winter. Then I went out the door, down a different set of stairs, far from the spider web, and got in the car.
When I came home, the web was gone. The spider was gone.
And I was happy. The Man is my hero.
Stormy, dark, threatening. Harbinger of winter to come. And the snow that will follow.