A hopeful, vibrant and full of life little piglet named Wilbur has an uncanny resemblance to myself. And Eli, my dear love, an awful lot like a wise spider. Charlotte shares her ways of spinning a web and her tools of spidery with this curious soul. They become fast bound friends as they admire one another's ways. Wilbur asks too many questions but never fears asking too many questions. He sees no harm in wondering and using his resources and friends around him as a source of inspiration- a place where answers can be found. As Charlotte explains how to spin a web Wilbur is thrilled to try his hand at this creative endeavor. After Templeton, the rat ties a piece of sting onto Wilbur's tail he gives it another go, "Wilbur climbed again to the top of the manure pile, full of energy and hope. 'Everybody watch!' he cried. And summoning all his strength, he threw himself into the air, headfirst. The string trailed behind him. But as he had neglected to fasten the other end to anything, it didn't really do any good, and Wilbur landed with a thud, crushed and hurt. Tears came to his eyes. Templeton grinned. Charlotte just sat quietly. After a bit she spoke. " She fairly surmises that Wilbur lacks know how and spinnerets. He can't spin a web, but that it is ok, he has his meals brought to him each day. He has other talents. Wilbur sighed. "You're ever so much cleverer and brighter than I am, Charlotte. I guess i was just trying to show off. Serves me right." I think this exact scenario has played out in my household. I recall the time I had a grandiose idea. My palette was large and i had a vision to paint my razzled beauty, Adrianna in a scene by the ducks. I sketched quickly and bought the paints and chose the colors. I sketched quickly but was most excited so I jumped right in. The result was flat, unbalanced colors, nothing stood out, no distance or depth existed. most disappointing was the lack of execution that I had delivered to the little spirit of my baby girl. My slop of paint had no life. Like Wilbur I cried in my little pile of manure. I put off spinning all together. Eli with out bias tried to direct me to improve it. To start anew, to find new directions and to bring my strengths into it. To give it time and space. Wilbur desperately wants to find out how Charlotte plans to save his life, her naturally patient ways are not begetting the answers he craves. She encourage him to take care of himself. Never hurry and never worry. Another time I sat behind the drum set and experimented with the symbols, the snare and an occasional bass thump. I did it with a misguided thought that Eli might notice a hidden talent I had for rhythm. Well, my Christenson DNA reared its unrhythmic head and well, the truth shall set you free. I looked beyond my misgivings and found I have other tricks up my sleeve more suited to my development. So the story goes and we find Charlotte's slow steady ways create a magnum opus, an egg sac that she has created perfectly and will be her kin. Without Wilbur, those eggs would not have survived. She needed him and he needed her. They learn and complement one another beautifully. They lift one another to a higher beam in the barn. This week I watched Eli and his band play. It has been so long since I have been to a show. I love to go and to be reminded that this is what Eli must do. His music and more precisely Eli, himself elevates me and causes me to think beyond the mundane.