Big Beautiful World 44 - My Pet Orb Weaver

It’s a big, beautiful world out there. Please enjoy it responsibly. Every summer, an orb-weaver--I don't know her name, I will call her Ella--moves in. I mean, Ella doesn't move *in*-in. She doesn't show up with luggage, rent a room or pay for board. For one brief moment this year she was inside the front door, until George shooed her back out and saved her from the cats. After we returned Ella to the outside she did what orb weavers do, and set up a glorious web next to our front porch. She strategically locates herself in front of the porch light, in what would be an ideal bug-congregation zone but for Ella. Ironically, the area right next to the come-hither light is the least likely place to encounter a ton of bugs at my house. This year, thanks to a hideous amount of mosquitoes, our Miss Ella has had ample access to a smorgaskeeterbrod and is currently our fat-n-sassy girl. I swear, she is roughly the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. And yes, folks, I know that the umpteen summer orb-weaver porch webbings I've seen means it's umpteen generations of orb-weavers that have moved in, and not the same one over and over again. I know it. But to me they are all, eternally, Ella, and I wait for her return every year. Rarely does she disappoint.