Day: October 14, 2023

Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

I’ve been thinking about spiders the last few days.

I don’t love or hate spiders; they’re another critter inhabiting the spectrum of our existence. I’ve been thinking abut them more because we don’t kill spiders in our household. We co-exist with a decent size population of them, including black widows. The biggest thing about all these spiders is that we end up with a lot of spider webs. I sometimes clean the webs away, which often displaces some. I don’t kill them as they run away from the cleaning, but I do apologize to them. No one likes being forced to move from their home.

Anyway, I turned on the kitchen light last night and headed for the sink. A windowsill rests just above the sink. A spider sitting on the window sill bolted away, as if I’d frightened them. About a quarter inch long, dark brownish with red legs, I don’t know what kind of spider they were.

Maybe the light spooked ’em, I thought, completing my task (which, not surprisingly, was washing the cats’ food bowls). Watching that spider tear along the window’s length prompted me to wonder again, how well does that spider see? I had the impression that despite eight eyes, they were running blind, maybe yelling, “Run away! Run away!”

Spider vision preoccupied me the night before. While cleaning away webs on the front porch, a spider dropped from the ceiling to the floor and scurried away. This was a ‘daddy long legs’. We have about seven hundred billion living around our house, I think.

That drop was about eight feet. Well, when the spider was dropping from the ceiling to the porch, did they have any idea of what was below them? Think about the courage that must entail. “Well, can’t stay here, gotta get out of here, so I’m just letting go. Wheee.”

Yes, I know that since they have so little weight and mass that they don’t have issues with gravity as we do, but still, dropping like that when you don’t know where you’re going?

Made me think of paratroopers in WWII.

Of course, on the other hand, spiders proably never learned to fear dropping to the ground. Not like us speaking before a crowd. Before we speak in a public gathering, we often absorb what people say about speakers. Lot of times, it’s mocking and casual insults. Listening to those things indoctrinates a fear of what they’ll say about us while we’re speaking, or how we might mess up and OMG, embarrass ourselves.

I conducted brief online research about spidey vision. Which reminds me; when Spiderman was created, why didn’t he grow eight eyes and eight limbs? How was he just limited to his spidey sense, making webs, and being a creepy crawler?

Articles I read about spiders confirmed what I suspected. Spider vision varies and often isn’t real great. Their hunting and nesting roles, along with their socializing skills and hunting style, guide their vision development and how the eight eyes generally function. (BTW, not all spiders have eight eyes.)

That spider may have kind of running blind, depending on those factors, but it was’t totally blind. Their running blind is more like if a human with vision problems who need corrective lenses might be running if they weren’t wearing those lenses.

Now I can imagine a spider with glasses sitting in a web, talking with another spider about how glasses improved their life.

Like other creatures, spiders present complicated and fascinating life form variations. I still don’t understand why they terrify so many people. Yes, they have venom and can bite and others can die from those bites but that’s not all of them.

I guess that’s another matter which I need to research.

11

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: coffee-ized bubbly

Greetings to Saturday, October 14, 2023.

Although it’s only 49 F now, they point us toward a high in the mid to upper seventies.

It’s a pleasant morning. No wind. Light clouds blemish the blue sky. I’d checked early; here in southern Oregon, just above he California border, in Oregon’s southwestern corner, we’re on the edge of the eclipse path. We wanted to see that sucker.

Awaiting the annular eclipse, which was expected in Ashlandia (where the soups are hot and the desserts are delicious) at 9:18 AM. Sitting in my office, which is on the house’s west side, I noticed a darkening. Leaping up, I grabbed my eclipse classes and dashed out to check the eclipse.

Yes! It had begun.

I ran back in and yelled the news to my wife and scurried back out. The viewing spot was on the sidewalk in front of my house. Peering east by southeast between trees and houses gave us a satisfying view. At first, the moon rendered the sun into a fat but bright bottom heavy crescent moon. The moon’s journey over the sun kept thinning the sun crescent. Simultaneously, the sun began darkening, acquiring a burnt orange glaze.

As the eclipse progressed, my wife said, “That reminds me of the eye of Sauron.” She shifted into her best Golem voice. “My precious. Where is my precious coffee?”

We developed a routine. Watch for a few minutes, dash inside, sip some coffee, return. I modified my path, setting coffee over on the sidewalk, out of the way by the house, so no one would kick it over.

We didn’t notice any changes in birds or anything. Oddly, two trios of people walking dogs paid no attention to the eclipse as this all transpired. Both were younger middle age (the people, not the dogs). I wondered, did they not know, or did they not care? Were they anti-science people?

More questions which will never be answered for me.

Finally, at 9:18, we had the ring of fire, or seventy percent of it, as that’s what science declared we’d see here. The eclipse at this point reminded us of a black button with an illuminated ring around it. What would happen it we pressed it?

Throwing caution into the trash, we pressed it several times. Nothing was noted as different, but in some other part of the world, the sun could be blinking in and out. Or a fuse was blown or a circuit breaker thrown and nothing was happening. We couldn’t tell.

At its fullest point, we said, “Hello sun, hello moon.” Nice to address them as a couple.

As for the cats, they took opposite approaches to the eclipse, just as they do everything. They’re always a study in opposites. Papi, our sleek, short haired orange tabby, wants little to do with people and doesn’t show much interest in our food or activities. He doesn’t like loud noises and despises the wind.

Tucker, the black and white long-haired elder beast enjoys being with us and wants to be in on everything. If we’re eating, he wants to know how it smells and tastes.

While we were checking the eclipse, Papi shied away safe place in backyard sun. Drawing his legs in and curling his tail around his bod, he posed in a perfect loaf position.

Tucker stayed with us. If we went in for coffee, he came with us, going back out when we did, walking around by us as we looked up at the sun. He didn’t care anything for the sun; his focus was on his people.

The eclipse is dwinding now as the sun and moon say their farewells and part. We’ve come back into the house. One of us goes out every few minutes and comes back in to update the other. But it’s anti-climatic at this point, like a blow-out in a football game. We’re just waiting for the end.

The Neurons have come up with “Eclipse” from the 1973 Pink Floyd album, Dark Side of the Moon to mark the day. A terrific climax to a favorite album, it’s quite welcomed in the morning mental music stream (Trademark deteriorating).

And everything under the sun is in tune

But the sun is eclipsed by the moon.

Clouds have covered the sun and dulls the sky. Time to press on. Stay pos, be safe, and be strong. Coffee has been drunk, thanks. Here’s the music. Cheer

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