The temperature was twenty-one degrees when I walked this morning, pretty typical for mid-February. What wasn’t typical was the spider scurrying across the road. Without a coat and socks – who can afford a four pack of socks anyway? – he had to be cold. Those exoskeletons don’t come with much insulation.
What was he doing on our road in the middle of February other than blowing all my winter paradigms to bits? Had he fallen from a passing car? Or maybe I hadn’t seen him hitch a ride outside on my shoe. However he got on the road, he was in a hurry. I watched him scuttle about three feet. Then he stopped long enough for me to snap a picture and went on his way again. The cold didn’t seem to slow him down much.
February does strange things to man and beast. The days grow longer, the sun gains strength, and it fools everyone into thinking spring is right beyond the horizon, on the other side of the road. With the warm sun on your back, you hurry across and find a chilly snowbank and another month of winter.
I hope the spider finds a cozy crevice below the frost line before tomorrow’s winter storm arrives. Otherwise he’ll be frozen in time. The thought makes me sad, but not enough to rent him a corner in basement until the frost leaves the ground. Just melancholy and wistful enough to feel sorry for a spider.
February certainly does strange things to man and beast.
