Today is a lazy Sunday. The morning's fog has finally burned off and white clouds are scudding along a blue sky. Mark and I had thought to go to the beach, but Mark suggested that maybe we could put it off a week; I was feeling disinclined to spend hours in a car, so I agreed.
I spent the morning sipping some tea, listening to Sunday Baroque, and virtually visiting the chapels of Oxford via a booklet put together here:
and I came to the conclusion that Pamela Colman Smith must have been influenced by various stained glass windows when she created the images in the Rider-Waite tarot deck.
Slightly related, I've been having some fun watching Dr. Colleen Darnell and her husband, Dr. John C. Darnell, at The Vintage Egyptologist: https://www.youtube.com/c/VintageEgyptologist/featured
The spiders are out and building their webs. There are at least three visible from the back deck; they each hold quarter-sized orb-weaver spiders (I think). The brown and dun bands on their legs and abdomens remind me of rattan. I'm guessing the larger spiders are the females. Yesterday I'm pretty sure I saw a mating ritual; a larger spider sat near the edge of its web and strummed one of the strands. A smaller spider slowly advanced along the threads. They faced each other, the smaller spider waving three or more legs so that the tips just brushed the larger spider's legs. The smaller spider moved closer and closer, occasionally tagging the larger spider, then rushing away as if to a avoid a tag-back. The larger spider eventually folded its legs close to its body and held still. The smaller spider quickly wrapped its legs around the larger one (?pinning its legs?) and pressed its abdomen against the larger one. About ten seconds later, it dashed off, quick as lightning, and hid under a nearby leaf. The larger spider unfolded and splayed across several web strands. I didn't stay to watch, but I think they were going to do it again.
The hummingbirds continue to visit the fountain. I'm torn between wanting to go out and get a feeder for them and the knowledge that eventually Cicero and Smokey will tolerate Aoife enough to venture back into the back yard. Cicero's bad enough with dragonflies and snakes, and I can imagine catching and torturing hummingbirds would be great sport for him.
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