Spider Web

Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night.

Carl Sandburg

On a foggy morning, the silk strands of a web glisten with dewy diamonds.

A spider hangs in the window, waiting.

After hunting insects all summer, I am beginning to feel a little spider-like.

Patience is key.

Bees will eventually bumble in.

Ladybugs will climb.

A spice bush swallowtail may stay surprisingly still.

The grasshopper will leap into sight.

Tiger swallowtail could get preoccupied with a blazing star,

And a singing Cicada fall from the tree.

The Monarch will make a Royal Appearance,

And unwary flies land before me.

Will you walk into my parlour? Said the spider to a fly: '"Tis the prettiest little parlour That ever you did spy.

Mary Howitt

The Collector

Spider-like I spin

my web patiently, sensing

when you wander in.

I have had a great time looking for bugs everywhere this summer. The spider binding book I mentioned in my last post (click here if you didn’t see that one) is almost completely full of photos.

Spider binding from the top - its shape is the reason for its name.

I realized I could add twice the photos I thought I could to this book because of the wide open format, so I printed the extra photos today. Now I just need to mount them and add the cover photo and I’ll be done.

Another follow up - I am offering a three hour bookbinding workshop on September 28, 2024 at 9:30 am at my barn/studio in Glenn, Michigan.

We will be making a hand-stitched slotted wrapper binding, and, if we have time, I’ll also show you a how to make a couple of fun single sheet folded books. All tools and materials will be provided. The cost is $75 per person. Class size is limited to 10 people, so please let me know as soon as possible if you’re interested by replying to this message (if you received this post via e-mail) or sending me an email at rhodatude@gmail.com.

Thank you so much for being here.  See you next month!

What a beautiful summer this has been. Here’s a brief moment with the sun, before my little part of earth turned away into night.

Fall in Fanano (Italy)

Life is a combination of magic and pasta.

Federico Fellini

Fanano is a small town on the edge of Emilia-Romagna, just north of the Tuscan border. We were here just after the fall harvest of grapes and grains.

The first day, I wandered around the nearby farms.

A highland bull along my route just kept on chewing while he watched me pass (although it’s hard to be sure he could actually see me).

Not far to the north is the city of Modena, famous for its balsamic vinegar and fast cars- also the former home of opera singer, Luciano Pavarotti. I took a picture of the sign to help me find my way back to where I was staying.

The season was still changing while I was here - bees were sluggish, not flying from the Queen Anne’s lace, even when I was very close with my camera.

The vines were going dormant, with the grapes already harvested.

The sun, with all those planets revolving around it and dependent on it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to do.

Galileo Galilei

I loved wandering here, seeing the views of many small communities below me nestled in the hills.

Later in the week, the city of Fanano had an Autumn food festival, where local restaurants came to make dishes unique to the region; bands played, and lots of local wine was consumed.

The weather was unusually warm for October and it brought out the crowd. I’ve been to this town many times, but I’ve never seen so many people in the streets - and they were all eating, taking and laughing.

The band was really entertaining, inviting kids to come up and play instruments and involving the entire crowd in their music.

In another square some women reenacted the old method of stomping grapes to squeeze out their juice, while other local women sang in accompaniment.

Just after the women began to sing and dance, the sky turned dark and the air temperature began to drop. A sudden hail and rainstorm sent us all running for cover.

A rose after the hailstorm, surprisingly undamaged.

A view of the Corsini household (my husband, Tom’s, cousin) from above on our last day here.

Every house guest brings you happiness. Some when they arrive, and some when they are leaving.

Confucius

We had a great time here with Tom’s family, who took us in, fed us, and spent the week hiking, shopping and touring the local towns and parks with us. I feel really fortunate to know these generous people. Staying with them was a welcome rest after two weeks of hiking and moving around from place to place every day in Portugal and Spain. I hope I can return the favor someday.

Thank you so much for being here. I will see you next week!