I moved up to the mountains not so very long ago and, in the fullness of time, spring came tripping over the threshold. Along about April I generally fill the hummingbird feeder and mount it on a pole.
|Less appealing than Australian possums|
This year I figgered it was kinda useless trying to attract hummingbirds. I'm fairly high up.
But I'm a dreamer so I set out the nectar.
I called them and they came. Beautiful humming birds were weaving back and forth in the air a half hour after I offered them a place to feed.
Lovely colors. So magical. So amazing.
Then there's my possum.
He doesn't show up as much since I stopped waking up in the morning, shivering, stoking the woodstove, and opening the door to scatter two handfuls of seed out across the top of the snow for the birds up here.
All this before I got a cup of coffee.
There are those who advocate arising with the dawn and sitting down at the computer while the trailing mists of dreams still linger in the mind. Somehow I never seem to manage this.
Other Word Wenches talk about the animals in their lives here.