Mary Dansak

Zooming in on the picture I’d just taken of a mountain laurel blossom, I was tickled to find that it had been photobombed by a granddaddy longlegs. This spindly critter hiding out on the pink petals was one of the first creepy-crawlies I learned to identify as a young child. 

“Hello, spider,” I whispered, as we do to pictures of animals, but then remembered those long afternoons with the neighborhood gang, lounging around in giant pine straw nests we built to live in because our parents didn’t let us come inside the house until dinner was ready. We’d while away the hours sharing all kinds of wisdom from our prickly, temporary homes.

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