At least for a while.

This has been a summer of panic and procrastination for me. Plus some pleasure, especially traveling with my son and his seven-year-old grandson. But for months I’ve suffered the mother of all car electrical problems, not only expensive but turning trips to the grocery store and laundromat into disappointments and/or detailed plans equaling that of an expedition up the Amazon. The stress has lured me into hours of deadening my brain with computer solitaire in order to avoid creative writing. We don’t realize how much we rely on wheels until they refuse to roll. Especially up here where public transportation hardly exists.

But this morning I was reminded how much a few moments sitting outside in the sun and silence can soothe the soul. It was silent until I heard the high buzz of a hummingbird. I only have one feeder, but I’m diligent about keeping it clean and full of nectar. Every few days I boil water and mix up a fresh batch with pure white cane sugar. It’s always amused me that their beverage of choice has the same ratio as mine, only theirs is four parts water to one part sugar, while mine is vodka to vermouth.

I have one geranium plant in a pot that I nursed inside through the gray winter and nearly lost anyway when I left it out in a three-day spring rainstorm. They love hot sun (they grew like weeds in our California backyard) and the leaves turned sickly mud-yellow in the chill damp of Vermont. I brought the pot back inside and let it dry out and hoped for the best. Eureka! The leaves went back to healthy green, and a few days ago I noticed buds. So I put it back outside in the hot sun, and I now have one beautiful blazing red bloom.

It was enough to attract my hummingbirds’ attention. Mama and her mate have become used to me sitting there quietly reading while they sip from the feeder (I suspect she’s sipping for two or three). I wish Papa Hummer wouldn’t chase all the others away, but I was warned the Ruby-throated Hummingbird is territorial, and they weren’t kidding. He is ferocious at driving off any interlopers. Still, the tiny couple are fun to watch as they flit back and forth. Usually they stay at a safe distance and watch me carefully, but for some reason this morning Mama decided to take a closer look.

To quote Stan Tekiela’s field guide “Birds of New Hampshire and Vermont”, a hummer “can hover, fly up and down, and is the only bird to fly backward”. Mama placed herself in front of me, about two feet from my nose, and did all three, trying to figure me out. It may have been the bright red flower which initially attracted her, but it was my face she was committing to memory. I wish I could have taken a photo, or better yet a video. But I was afraid to reach for my phone for fear of interrupting her enchanting dance.

Is this where the stories of faeries came from?