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I miss my woods and often revel in the sweet memories. Like the day the woods blushed.

I stood at my kitchen windows, elbows on the cool tile counter, chin resting in my hands. From that vantage, I watched a flush creep down the hill as the perfect summer day surrendered to twilight. Above, a riot of rouged clouds scudded across the turquoise sky. Below, luminous shadows stretched lazily down to embrace the evening.

Only an occasional birdcall stirred the stillness of the trees.

I was quite content to gaze there until the setting sun bleached the woods to gray. Then a flicker up near the window’s corner snared my attention. A tiny, lady hummingbird dipped and darted on the other side of the glass, her downy brown feathers gilded by the gloaming. At first, I couldn't fathom her mission. She hovered, sparkling eyes intent on something I could not see, and then she flurried off through the pines. Moments later she returned and repeated her private ballet.

A single ray of fading light glinted off an abandoned spider web and revealed her focus. For she flitted over and snipped one tiny gilded filament of floss. Then she buzzed off to parts unknown bearing her treasure.


…all this afternoon, as I bemoaned the eternal editing and endless details of my beloved work, Mrs. Ruby was building her home one spider web strand at a time.


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