The most colourful spider I photograped in my garden is the one pictured above. This photo was taken in March. But now, with the rains, there's a spider underneath many a leaf, bud and bloom! And also in their (world wide) webs!!
As a child, I did have a mild case of arachnophobia. But gardening and later, blogging, has changed my perception of all creatures around me. If butterflies are welcome, so are the spiders! In fact it's rainin' spiders now!
The artist is a receptacle for the emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider's web. ~ Picasso
There are many stories associated with spiders. Here's an online version.
The ancient Greek poet Ovid spun the tale of a young woman named Arachne, who boasted that she could weave as well as the goddess Athena. After a weaving contest between mortal and goddess, Athena began beating Arachne, who tried to hang herself in fright. Athena turned the arrogant weaver into a spider, and Arachne and her descendants have since then been weavers that hang from threads.
Yellow spider on a golden trumpet leaf.
Pale-looking one on a rain lily.
A tiny orange spider on a basil leaf.
Another yellow on the Nolina plant.
A tiny one on the Ornamental Pineapple.
My good old reference book about nature facts says that spiders prefer liquid nourishment. A spider paralyzes its prey by inject- ing venom through a pair of fangs (chelicerae) on its head. Then it regurgitates stomach juices into the wound, introducing digestive enzymes into its victim's body. All the prey's internal organs break down into a liquid mush, which the spider sucks up through its small mouth opening.
Glory be to God for dappled things- For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings; Landscape plotted and pieced--fold, fallow, and plough; And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim. All things counter, original, spare, strange; Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: Praise him. Gerard Manley Hopkins
The first flowering shrub I planted on our land
Every flower is a soul blooming in Nature.-Gerard De Nerval
Shall I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself? -Henry David Thoreau