The dense bits of cobweb in the bushes look slightly blue. I have a vague memory of having noticed that before, but I haven't thought of it in a long time. There used to be big, bluish cobwebs in the fir trees on the hillside where I sometimes watched the world on summer afternoons. Those trees are gone now and some other world has replaced the one I watched. I smell their shade, though, falling on the plush ground where years of dried needles lay. Even as a child I couldn't stand upright beneath those low branches, but crawled into that space they made which was like a small, hidden temple. I don't think I ever saw spiders there, but there were always patches of cobwebs which I took care not to disturb. As I concentrate now, I see that place almost as clearly as I see the present moment. Too bad I take the way I feel now into that vision. It would be so much nicer if the physical well-being of youth could be conjured as easily as its settings.