And so Wilbur came home to his beloved manure pile in the barn cellar. His was a strange homecoming. Around his neck he wore a medal of honor; in his mouth he held a sac of spider's eggs. There is no place like home, Wilbur thought, as he placed Charlotte's five hundred and fourteen unborn children carefully in a safe corner. The barn smelled good. His friends the sheep and the geese were glad to see him back. (22.1)
At last one little spider took time enough to stop and talk to Wilbur before making its balloon.
"We're leaving here on the warm updraft. This is our moment for setting forth. We are aeronauts and we are going out into the world to make webs for ourselves."
"But where?" asked Wilbur.
"Wherever the wind takes us. High, low. Near, far. East, west. North, south. We take to the breeze, we go as we please." (22.37-40)
"Joy! Aranea! Nellie!" he began. "Welcome to the barn cellar. You have chosen a hallowed doorway from which to string your webs." (22.62)