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  • I am in search of a spider's web. A web that literally stretches between trees. It sparkles with dew at dawn and later with evening mist. My Aunt and oldest brother have described seeing such webs. I guess I never ventured deep enough into the Virginia woods to see such sights. The biggest webs I remember seeing as a child growing up in Lynchburg were the silky masses tucked under the back porch and under the house. "Under the house" was dirt floor storage space for Pop's wine making cask, old tools and furniture, and where he accessed the water pipes to wrap them in winter. As children, my younger brother and I sometimes played there. If you didn't swing the flashlight around just in time, you'd walk into the webs. Yucky stuff! But viewing the animated version of Charlotte's Web helped to mitigate the fear and romanticize the web. Where I live now, in Massachusetts, I see no webs of any kind. Probably, once again, because I have not ventured deep enough, somewhere. Meanwhile, I do see the dandelion. Everywhere. And as I peer this Spring day into the complexity of its dry flower head, I am reminded of the web, of silken threads connecting distant nodes, strong and yet so fragile it is unable to withstand a baby's breath. One day I may venture far and deep enough so that I may walk up to a giant web but for now I am content to hold its tiny proxy in my hands.
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