I've found that when I slow down, really slow down...I see so much that I would have otherwise missed in the natural world. I suppose it's true in human societies, as well.
The first year Cheryl moved up here with me she had just finished a holistic therapies degree at The College of St Catherine's and had been working as an addictions nurse on night shift. Her pace was quick.
I had a path which meandered quite a distance through the woods to the house...which was invisible both from the road and the drive way. An arched gate was at the head of the path, made from naturally bowed tree limbs/branches...it mimicked the bottom chord and radii of a spider's web...although that wasn't my intent when I'd made it.
We were returning from a drumming gathering on my motorcycle, when a sudden thunderstorm drove us off the road...the hard rain fell and left as the sun was setting...quite beautiful. We were within a mile from home. Walking up the path with the sunset streaming through the trees, I stopped ahead of Cheryl. There, blocking the path, was a spider's web which looked very much like the gateway. Droplets of rain glistened like small prisms along the web and the large barn spider/orb weaver was at the intersection of the radii along the bottom chord. "How am I going to get around this, limbo?" I said to Cheryl while she looked in awe. She had a fear of spiders back then. Poison ivy and heavy brush lined the pathway. I no sooner had asked the question when the spider lifted the bottom chord pulling it to the top of the web, creating a perfect arch..."Oh, that's how!"...and I walked beneath it. She refused to walk through, believing the spider would drop on her head as she crossed...instead opting for the poison ivy...I looked back and saw the spider return the web to its original shape.
Cheryl also learned that white oak bark is a remedy for poison ivy that evening.