My father was an entomology technician with the USDA. On a few precious days during the summer, I went with him to the lab. I examined spiders and snakes in specimen jars, watched the angelfish in the office aquarium, and listened to the men talk. Not being sexist here, but the lab was populated by men. I think there was a secretary somewhere, but she didn’t work in the lab. It was probably the spiders and snakes that kept her at a distance.

I listened while Dad’s boss and co-worker chatted during downtime. Dad was always off doing something – prepping for the next experiment, observing, cleaning up. He wasn’t good at being still or idle. Neither am I, but I listened and watched and scribbled on a yellow pad, trying hard to be still and quiet. The reward would be lunch at the A&W Drive-In.

I loved being in the lab. Those visits fostered my love of both science and of creepy crawlies. There are exceptions — cockroaches, fleas, ticks, mosquitoes, and fire ants, to name a few. Spiders are not one of the exceptions.

I did not get my admiration of spiders from my mother. She once worked for the state department of agriculture. She picked random samples of leaves for examination. She was good at it, she said, because she was afraid of spiders. Rather than cherry-picking the leaves, she would reach in and grab without looking, all while hoping to avoid any spider that might be hiding in the tree.

My Taller Half (MTH) discovered an interesting spider outside last night. The web was anchored on one side to an overgrown ligustrum. The other side was anchored on a tree about 10 feet up and about 15-20 feet away from the ligustrum. He took photos, but when I looked for the web during the day, I didn’t see it.

We went out together tonight, and the spider was busily rebuilding. While I’m sure the bright flashlight was disturbing, she didn’t stop building … except when a flying bug attracted by the light hit the web. She took a break to wind him up then returned to her building. I believe she is an Eriophora ravilla, a tropical orb weaver. From the photos I found, she might be a juvenile. I found this on the IFAS site:

Orb webs of adult female E. ravilla have a widely spaced spiral and may be over 1 m across (see photograph in Levi 1977). The bridge thread supporting the web may be 6 m long (M. Stowe in Levi 1977). The web is constructed after dark, and the orb is taken down before dawn. The bridge and frame threads are probably left in place (Levi 1977). The web probably catches many moths and other night flying insects; these spiders may be particularly beneficial along woodland borders of field agroecosystems and within orchards. It is known to occur in citrus groves in Florida (Mansour et al. 1982). All stages apparently occur throughout the year, but little else is known of its life cycle.

https://edis.ifas.ufl.edu/publication/IN568

That explains why I couldn’t find the web. Very cool. We named her Enola. Enola is alone backwards, as we were told by the title character of Enola Holmes. Orb weavers seem to live solitary lives.

Before The Big Storm hit, I had a beautiful golden silk orb-weaver in residence. I enjoyed visiting him, seeing his web each day, telling him how beautiful he was. The night before the storm, he had fortified his web impressively, and as the winds began to pick up, he stood defiantly on his new web. I told him it would not help, that he needed to go into the eaves or find someplace safe. He didn’t listen to me. Stubborn. After the storm, I looked for him, but I never saw him again. He probably had quite a ride.

One of the things I loved most about Dad was that he never expected less from my sister or me than he did of our brothers. He believed we could be or do anything we wanted. He talked to me about bugs and plants. He brought home baby ducks and puppies. He warned me about the dangers of a possum bite while he hand-fed a possum jellybeans. I miss him.

One of the things I love most about MTH is that he sees the world a lot like I do. He will stop to marvel at a spider building a web. He’ll send me photos of that spider at night while I’m sleeping because he knows I wouldn’t want to miss it. He will tromp through the weeds and sit on a fallen tree trunk to watch the cardinals with me. He’ll turn the car around to take another look at a magnolia in full bloom. He comprehends the wonder of God’s creation.

One of the things I love most about Enola is that she weaves these memories together as skillfully as she weaves her web. Tonight, I thank God for the men He put in my life. For Mom. For love and spiders.