Four tiny spiders on a strand of web: I'm certain there's a lesson in here somewhere.

Yesterday I shot more than 400 photos. That's right. 452 images, to be exact. This isn't as big a deal as it may sound; the purpose of these shots was merely to have more photos in my collection of background texture images I like to use for various digital design projects. And so rather than finding the excursion labor intensive, I just moved around my friend's property shooting pretty much anything that grabbed my attention. With perfect ease. And enjoyment to feel that gorgeous spring sunshine on my face.

These baby spiders did not grab my attention. In fact, I didn't see them at all.

The baby spiders I nearly missed in a photo I was about to discard.

Today while culling the shots, deleting anything I wasn't positive I would use in future (it's so much easier to delete substandard shots when you have this many. Have I offered a hat tip to digital cameras lately? Have I???) my finger hovered over the "delete" key. The focal point of my shot - a flower I am too horticulturally-naive to identify - was out of focus. Such a pretty little flower, but it had to go. But wait!!! What's that? Over to the right of the picture, there danced this little row of baby spiders, clearly moving along this strand of their web. Going where? I'll never know. (Hopefully somewhere outside in nature where they belong, evermore to remain.)

I almost missed them. But here they are. Over on the part of the photo that remained once I'd cropped the original purpose of the shot, not a foot away from the blossom I'd had my eye on... Tiny spiders on a strand. I'm going to call this my "stopping to smell the roses" moment today. And get back to work as I ponder the meandering thoughts related to what it means to truly see. And whether or not I want to get better at it, whether it's even possible to see everything that's in front of us, whether or not it matters that we try, and how it's impossible, particularly given these fast-paced lives we've created for ourselves in the 21st Century. But how, at unexpected moments throughout these paths we're traversing, it still feels good to observe something so tiny, so nearly-missed, so able to give us pleasure if we choose to take it.