Spiderland, or evenings in Nashville

Nashville is covered with spiders. The long, warm days summon herds of moths and butterflies this time of year, and the spiders respond by increasing their ranks, getting bigger, getting hungrier. Leave anything outside overnight and a spider will claim it: flowerpots in a windowsill, a newspaper in the grass. Twice we have found spiderwebs in our car. While sitting on the backsteps a iridescent-green, crab-like spider drifted down to my arm and began to anchor it to the cement.

An orb weaver spent two nights crafting gigantic webs from the front porch overhang to the bushes. The webs were easily three feet across, and seemingly put up instantaneously. We would enter the house at 7pm, leave an hour later and the spider was already perched in the center of her labor. Every morning she would eat the old web, leaving up only two guide-strings in a cross shape. After the second night she did not return, and I still look for her.





Matt has his share of insects as well. Every night a praying mantis or two climb between the panes of glass in the window about his desk to hunt the trapped moths. One small brownish mantis has taken up residence full time; we are careful to leave the curtain cracked at night so the desk light will lure in the little moths.

East Nashville is glorious for biking at night, after the scorching sun has set and the commuter traffic empties out. The neighborhood is more dense then most, and full of trees and small hills and alleyways. Cresting the little hill to our house, I always get a pang of nostalgia for trailer campgrounds: the tiny lots, the miniature houses, the people gathering in backyards or porches for a beer. We have a picnic table in our backyard that has already hosted a few pleasant evenings.

East Nashville in the evening betrays a kind of beauty too, that is hard to see with the sun beating down your back. The silhouettes of Victorian houses in line with little 1920's box cottages. The lights from the quarry across the river. And sometimes, something that takes you by surprise.