The Watcher

Yesterday, I was working in the greenhouse and gradually became aware that I was being watched.

I glanced out of the windows to see whether any of Margaret’s sheep or cows were out there doing that chewy, starey thing.

But no.  No visiting workmen either; eyeballing me through the door, noses pressed up against the glass.  Doesn’t half make me jump that.

And then I saw her.  A pretty Sussex spider, crouched and camouflaged on a plant from the other side of the world –  Opuntia or, as I now call it,  Stacy’s weed.

She didn’t seem to mind the spines.

She was just so intent on watching me.