Day 6

In the Command and Control Vehicle, a tiny spider crawled across my hand. I threw it off, and promptly sought its eviction from the trailer. It was a fast crawler--too fast for the little piece of paper I was using to carry it. We argued about where it should be. I wanted it on the paper. It wanted to be anywhere but the paper. Shortly it found a way to please us both, by paying out a line of silk to put some space between itself and me. Spiders, unlike crows, understand the necessity of isolation.

At the door, the little spider felt the wind, and payed out another length of silk. The breeze caught it, and it sailed away on an updraft, far above my head.

I forgot to take the peanuts outside with me. Instead of eating my legumes of bribery, the crow, who still does not need me for a friend, hopped around in the garden patch I hoed the other day. She ate so many bugs, and I was glad for her, to have food to eat in our garden. But it was ticklish food. She had to shake her head to get that stubborn food down.

I hope, when my turn comes, I'll cause some trouble--at least a tickle in the throat--of the giant crow that comes to take me.