from a spider’s web
Last week, a heavy fog descended on London and for two mornings, the city sparkled with bejewelled spider webs, each one glistening with dew. Our street looked like something out of Elizabeth Taylor’s jewellery box — hundreds of strings of diamonds and crystals hanging from tree branches and lamp posts and iron gates. As my friend Sas said, it’s like the spiders threw a party while we were sleeping. Everything felt hushed by the fog and the webs shimmered all morning, until the sun burned them off and I was reminded once again that nature truly is the most remarkable artist.
“The artist is a receptacle for 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.” –Pablo Picasso
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During November, I’m taking part in NaBloPoMo – leaving (well, attempting to leave) a few words or photos here everyday, with a little help from my friends – Xanthe :: Karen :: Andrea :: Elizabeth
wonderingsandwanderings.com 
you are SO doing it and I am honestly loving this reconnection— the drowsy fabulist is rising from her 100 years of slumber . . . party is on, mamacita! XOXO
Oh, this is LOVELY, pearly, I should say 🙂
Really glad we connected, BTW (on Insta as well :-))
I saw your reply to my comments in the previous post, but when I click approve, my wordpress goes all bananas. I’m having loads of trouble with wordpress this moment. Maybe it’s sulking because I’m more in love with blogspot 😉
I’ll keep commenting with a name only, from now on!