Tuesday 26 January
Last night, a spider lowered itself down, casually without making a sound or a fuss, and stopped. It rotated softly in a gentle spin, hanging from its silken thread. It stopped at eye-level, above the sink, between me and the wall-mounted bathroom mirror. And as I looked up from brushing my teeth, I first saw two of them. The skull spider, as it is also known, is common in homes this time of year. It has a dislike of the cold and the damp and is a fan of centrally heated homes.
And I wondered, why choose me? What were you trying to do? I could have lashed out at you in a fit of fear. Of course, I never would, but the point is, how can something so small, so normally avoidant of human contact, and so fragile, instill fear in so many of us?
It put me in a spooky mood, and so, today’s blog post is sharing some spooky images from last weekend’s walks. And with it, some unerving thoughts (for me at least), that I had as my imagination took over. And I make no apology for the use of black and white images – everything looks more frightening in monochrome.
Rural houses seen from a distance, especially lone ones, can appear strangely unwelcoming. Not so much a haven of safety, as a place where secrets or bad memories are contained. Walking through a room of an old house, I wondered who would have walked there in the past, what they wore, what they did? Now, from a distance, I wonder who stood where I do and what they wondered?
When I was a kid, around the age that I would have needed to be taken to school by my parents, I used to be scared of trees. Especially in woods, but also lone ones. Firstly there was the obvious size of them, and the roughness of their bark, and their age. But then there was also my imagination.
I think I believed that every tree had a companion, a shadow in human form. Without recognisable features and lacking fingers or toes. I carried this thought through to adulthood. Walks home from the pub or bus stop would revive it. Perhaps fuelled by a beer or two. There were many of these tree shadows in woods and copses, but the tree shadows looked after several trees each. I couldn’t work out if those looking after single trees were lonely or not.
The Bald Birder 