I am off-kilter in only two hours, and have to watch the shore until it disappears at sunset. The wonderful cities of my youth—reaching up with their warm light—are mostly dark now. Power is rare, too expensive. So while I can sense land, and could point in its direction, I have no proof it is there.
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My son needed something to do with all the time indoors. I mentioned spiders, and, despite his young age, he agreed. He was a talented breeder. A natural.
I told him we were looking for a species whose cobwebs vanished as soon as they were detached, but never told him why. That species alludes us even now.
The Caller-Times ran an article on Patrick’s work, and within eight months Francis contacted me about our Tochache red widows. He introduced himself as Taren Doyle, a biologist
