This morning there is a smorgasbord of administration awaiting me at my desk.
Sipping my last drops of coffee, one foot in the world of strategy and one in a forest of spider's webs, the sparkly raindrops win the toss and the wellies are on.
Galaxies of web threads and universes of morning dewdrops blanket everything. It's only on these moist misty mornings that they are visible. Billions of tiny insects, spiders, crawlies, spreading out from the gorse on the hill to the chair outside the kitchen door. Lattices and spirals of precious mesh.
This time of the year the tree spiders and cellar spiders are each looking for a mate. Inside the house they run out from their usual dark cover, disoriented but determined. Do they have to crawl over everything? Even over me?
Outside I feel more tolerant. Sometimes one scuttles into view, magnified by the lens and I jump a little. Less and less as it happens. They are starting to win me over.
Their clever work, their harmony with the environment, their secret presence. Do they have consciousness of the beauty they create? That's my question as I reluctantly head back to that cluttered desk.....