Now, we do not live in the city. It is called "the suburbs", but I disagree. Suburbs are developed communities outside the city limits with just enough space that you don't have to hear or see your neighbor if you don't want to, but it is still a controlled environment so you aren't living in the woods. We don't live in the suburbs, we live in the "country suburbs".
I have never seen the faces of my neighbors because we live too far away from them. We have a mama deer and her two kids make regular trips through our yard to nibble on shrubs and leaves in the cemetery behind our house. We have seen groundhogs, a black squirrel, and several kinds of birds including doves, cardinals, and lots of other kinds I can't name. There are several communes of spotted daddy long-legs spiders hanging around the back of our house. I have found two yellow jacket nests in our back yard (which also accounted for why I didn't go outside a whole lot when we first moved in--ever since I was traumatically stung by a yellow jacket in middle school, I have had an irrational fear of yellow jackets). And there are insects GALORE. If you know me at all, you will know that I am completely paranoid about mosquitoes because I will always get a mosquito bite. It could be October, and if there is a bug out, it will find me and bite me. I have the persistently sweet meat that is so attractive to bugs. They are the only things about summer that I hate.
When we first moved in, I kept finding a few yellow jackets buzzing around in our window between the glass and the screen; they must have found a way to get in through the frame. They would buzz around for a day or so until they died from dehydration. Unbeknownst to them, there was a quiet lady spider who would sit only inches below them, waiting for one of the yellow jackets to buzz through her web.
Then one morning I found this inside our window:
She had caught one and was slowly draining the yellow jacket of everything in his little body.
Later on that day, she had turned him upside down and was still working on him.
She made quick work of him and by the next morning, his carcass had been dropped out of her web. In its place was a small, tiny white egg sac. Also, her once swollen belly was now completely tiny. Since we couldn't have a hundred of her tiny spider children crawling around in our window frame, I enlisted my local exterminator: Tim.
While the kids and I hid upstairs (because I am a complete punk when it comes to these things), my exterminator "removed" the spider and her unborn children from our window and into a trash receptacle.
I love nature, and I love God's creation, but I am still a city girl of sorts so I don't want God's creation to procreate in my window frame.
Sorry, God. Hope you understand.
Well, you should since you made me.
… Thanks for that, by the way.
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