Read by Michael Flamel

Preparing for the first storm of the season, I readied myself to stow away the lawnmower and garden tools in the storage container—an inheritance from a former boyfriend who had found it on Craigslist. The backend of an old U-Haul truck, it housed an assortment of seasonal items. As the clouds darkened, I unveiled the treasures beneath the tarps.

As I shook out the final tarp, allowing oak leaves to fall and scatter, my attention was captivated by a large, black-as-coal spider sprawled atop the lawnmower. Nearly the size of a quarter, it gleamed in the slivers of sunlight, reminiscent of the shiny marbles of my childhood. Removing my sunglasses, I peered closer, discovering a bright red belly. A warning bell rang, yet reluctant to end her life, I swiftly retrieved a clear plastic container with a lid. Sensing an approaching presence, the spider held herself proudly as I gently placed her in the container.

She curled into a tiny ball, resembling the small rocks on the ground. Worried that my scoop had harmed her, I held my breath. Tentatively, her body unfolded, revealing a long, elegant leg. Caught in wonder, I watched as one of God’s tiniest creations bent her knee and extended it out to the side—a petite but deadly ballerina.

With the impending storm, I hastened down the street to a neighboring empty lot, laying the plastic container on its side. She took her time, perhaps not due to injury but in true prima ballerina style—waiting for her cue before Bourrée-ing across the field.

In the days that followed, I pondered her fate, wondering if she survived the storm and if my decision to relocate her was the right one. I like to believe her new environment offered another dimension of freedom and safety. To me, she embodied a self-confident arthropod using instincts to protect herself.

This unique encounter stirred thoughts about the world’s current unrest. Why do we feel the need to diminish or extinguish what we don’t understand? Many would instinctively eliminate a black widow, but I couldn’t. She wasn’t bothering me; in fact, I was the intruder. On that special day, my graceful, long-legged beauty unknowingly gifted me a precious reminder—that even when I feel unsafe, I know how to take care of myself. ❖

About the Author: Darien Gold of Sonoma County, CA has plenty of material to write about. Rescuing moths from sticky webs, birds from a feline’s jaw and the deer – no rosebush is safe!. Darien’s peaceful sanctuary provides a backdrop for nature’s drama. This is Darien’s first published story. Darien is the producer and host of the popular Podcast, All Things Pilates. She’s also the show’s writer and audio engineer.