I like breaking spider webs along the trail.
I have no particular animosity toward the spiders who labored through the night to make the webs. In fact, I feel bad about destroying their work and perhaps depriving them of a meal. And I certainly get no pleasure from the sticky strings wrapping themselves around my arms and face, clinging to my clothes and hair as I pass, especially when they bring the occupants along with them.
Still, I like breaking spider webs along the trail. Each one declares that no one else has walked this way today. Like the ribbon at the finish line broken only by the lead runner, each silvery strand I meet calls out to me, “You are first! You’re the first one to pass this way. No one else has ventured this far.”
Each web I break tells me that only I have seen this day from this place.
And so, I like breaking spider webs along the trail.