yesterday half a dozen hummingbirds danced with me as I rode up the road.
this won't last long: as I remember, it is only a brief phase of summer when these diminutive beauties hover and frolic about the bike lane, traveling with me, welcoming me to their beautiful home.
perhaps a month ago I was visited by one of these petite feathered creatures in my back yard, convincing me to get my hummingbird feeder out and filled and ready to welcome more of them.
and no one seems to have found it yet.
I haven't given up hope, but each day I look at the plentiful pink liquid and sigh a little sigh, unsure of how to let them know I am ready for their presence.
I am not alone in my desire to have hummingbirds grace my space with their presence: I frequently see feeders out as I'm traveling about. a couple weeks back when I rode the road less traveled, up deep into the northern arm of emigration, I passed a house with at least half a dozen hummingbird feeders ~ and a big, red Utah Utes flag ~ on the front porch. I imagined that house to be the perfect setting for enjoying these little birds: the house perches on the western sloping side of the street, looking across to a hillside of green, and big sky behind. for these homeowners to look out their windows to see handfuls of shimmering hummingbirds hovering to drink, with open hill and endless untouched sky behind . . . what a gift.
I would settle for just one little visitor, dancing around my solitary feeder with its few bushes and a cedar fence behind.
as I said, I haven't given up hope, but I will continue to look forward to the next week or two of riding up the bike lanes, watching for my welcoming committee, and reveling in their singular beauty and undeniable strength and charm.
I will never reach a point in my life where the presence of a hummingbird in the space that surrounds me fails to bring me joy and awe.