Augh

Today we're featuring a grass spider in my father's cotoneaster hedge. Grass spiders are funnel weavers. They make trampoline-style webs that end in funnels. The spider waits in the funnel end for something to bounce on the trampoline, and then (if all goes well) it's dinner time.

The spider, in effect, lives in a hole.

There are times when I'd like to live in a hole.

I'm not sure I want to eat bugs, though.






Today's snit, if anyone's keeping track, is brought to you by the continuing neck issue. It's got so that things are pretty mobile again, but it's obvious from the headache that's even now forming and the pain in my right shoulder that's making typing a less than thrilling experience that all is not exactly tip top yet. Getting there, yes, but I'm still hurting enough to be annoyed by it.

This record's kind of scratched, isn't it?

Ah well. If I'm going to be honest, I have to say that I didn't really have anything to say today anyway and obviously nothing seems to be what's coming out. It should have been predictable.

Shall we raise the white flag and give up on this whinge of a post, then?




Yes, I believe we shall.