A Magical Hour
This is one of those weather-perfect days I wish would never end. There is no breeze, and perfumed flowers scent the mild air. The grass is alternately bright and shadowed as the playful sun flits between fluffy clouds.
Soon enough the garden will shed its leafy finery; worms will dive deep into the cooling beds to escape the first frost. Birds will abandon their morning songs, stock up on procrastinating worms and navigate south to warmer climes. I’ll look out at the multiple shades of fading green and gold and accept that the season is done…
But, not yet!
Four huge sweet autumn clematis blanketing the tall walls bear millions of fat buds about to bloom. A few scented white starflowers have already opened, attracting delighted honeybees.
The sweet alyssum, gently cut back, is offering a freshened fragrant display, along with purple basil, Russian sage, lavender, mint and feverfew. The entire walled garden is bathed in the early evening’s fragrance. Dozens of bees happily hover above the ‘Autumn Joy’ sedum next to me, sipping nectar from the ripening pink broccoli-like buds of that charming succulent.
Sitting quietly on the lawn I hear a steady hmmmm. There! A ruby-throated hummingbird (Whose wings beat up to 70 times per second) pauses just inches away to probe the last lovely daylily before joining the bees to enjoy the ripening sedum. Four more tiny birds hover so close I could reach out and touch them! Birds and bees nearly collide as both compete for the succulent’s bounty.
Heavens! There are three more hummingbirds on the other side of the path sampling sedums, as well as the campanula’s blue bellflowers. And on my left, two more mini-avians explore the mint. The secret garden is awash in hummingbirds!
One lights on a lily stalk just inches from my nose, and I realize how short its tiny legs are. Hummers don’t hop, or walk. They only perch, and fly. This beauty rests for a few seconds before lifting off again.
I knee-walk closer to the sedums. There, gleaming in the sunlight, is a gossamer spider web woven between two of the plants. Suddenly a hummingbird darts to it to steal a tidily wrapped dinner, and when the outraged spider rushes to the spot, it’s snapped up, as well! Later I’ll read that hummers, who usually weigh between four and six grams (a penny weighs 2.5 grams), use sticky webs to line and strengthen their nests. They feast on mosquitoes, aphids, ants, and even caterpillars. Though no bigger than my thumb, hummers, who are very aggressive, fearlessly bully bees that fly into the feeding area they’ve claimed. Mini-air battles rage as they fight for dominance. It certainly must make a busy bee dizzy to charge a hummer, only to have it vanish, then reappear behind him.
Now I witness something even more amazing. A gorgeous hummer is hovering upside down by the alley fence, effortlessly probing for nectar inside a drooping red canna flower suspended seven feet above the ground. It’s an astounding display of aeronautical skill.
I glance toward the hibiscus tree; more hummers are hovering in and around its large blossoms; sticky yellow pollen coats their long bills, and gleams in the sun as they withdraw to dart to the next flower.
I’m immersed in this micro-world, spellbound by iridescent feathers, brilliant flying, and that soporific hummm, which intensifies and fades as the tiny creatures move close, then further away. I’ve never seen so many of these living jewels at once, and probably never will again.
Suddenly the garden bell rings; two older men stroll in and notice me sitting on the grass. I point to the hibiscus and say, quietly, “Look at all the hummingbirds!”
Enchanted, they stand there quietly, watching them hover and feed. A small beetle is parked inside a large white hibiscus flower, and then, suddenly, it isn’t. Has the world’s tiniest avian eaten it? Well, one just devoured a decent-sized spider and its fly-dinner. So, why not?
We chat quietly about hummingbird migration habits. So much about their lives remains a mystery, as it’s nearly impossible to track their movements with accuracy. (Workers on oil platforms 200 miles into the Gulf of Mexico have reported sighting the walnut-sized birds whizzing just over the waves toward Central America and Mexico. Scientists do know that they lead solitary lives, which can last over a decade. Recently one bird was miraculously recaptured; its tracking device was 12 years old!)
We are so captivated that it’s well after closing time when the dreamy-eyed men leave, eager to describe our experience to their families.
I lock up, then look around.
A small breeze stirs the perfumed air.
My garden hosts only one small rabbit peacefully nibbling clover in the grass.
At least 12 hummingbirds had visited during this enchanted evening…
This is one of those weather-perfect days I wish would never end. There is no breeze, and perfumed flowers scent the mild air. The grass is alternately bright and shadowed as the playful sun flits between fluffy clouds.
Soon enough the garden will shed its leafy finery; worms will dive deep into the cooling beds to escape the first frost. Birds will abandon their morning songs, stock up on procrastinating worms and navigate south to warmer climes. I’ll look out at the multiple shades of fading green and gold and accept that the season is done…
But, not yet!
Four huge sweet autumn clematis blanketing the tall walls bear millions of fat buds about to bloom. A few scented white starflowers have already opened, attracting delighted honeybees.
The sweet alyssum, gently cut back, is offering a freshened fragrant display, along with purple basil, Russian sage, lavender, mint and feverfew. The entire walled garden is bathed in the early evening’s fragrance. Dozens of bees happily hover above the ‘Autumn Joy’ sedum next to me, sipping nectar from the ripening pink broccoli-like buds of that charming succulent.
Sitting quietly on the lawn I hear a steady hmmmm. There! A ruby-throated hummingbird (Whose wings beat up to 70 times per second) pauses just inches away to probe the last lovely daylily before joining the bees to enjoy the ripening sedum. Four more tiny birds hover so close I could reach out and touch them! Birds and bees nearly collide as both compete for the succulent’s bounty.
Heavens! There are three more hummingbirds on the other side of the path sampling sedums, as well as the campanula’s blue bellflowers. And on my left, two more mini-avians explore the mint. The secret garden is awash in hummingbirds!
One lights on a lily stalk just inches from my nose, and I realize how short its tiny legs are. Hummers don’t hop, or walk. They only perch, and fly. This beauty rests for a few seconds before lifting off again.
I knee-walk closer to the sedums. There, gleaming in the sunlight, is a gossamer spider web woven between two of the plants. Suddenly a hummingbird darts to it to steal a tidily wrapped dinner, and when the outraged spider rushes to the spot, it’s snapped up, as well! Later I’ll read that hummers, who usually weigh between four and six grams (a penny weighs 2.5 grams), use sticky webs to line and strengthen their nests. They feast on mosquitoes, aphids, ants, and even caterpillars. Though no bigger than my thumb, hummers, who are very aggressive, fearlessly bully bees that fly into the feeding area they’ve claimed. Mini-air battles rage as they fight for dominance. It certainly must make a busy bee dizzy to charge a hummer, only to have it vanish, then reappear behind him.
Now I witness something even more amazing. A gorgeous hummer is hovering upside down by the alley fence, effortlessly probing for nectar inside a drooping red canna flower suspended seven feet above the ground. It’s an astounding display of aeronautical skill.
I glance toward the hibiscus tree; more hummers are hovering in and around its large blossoms; sticky yellow pollen coats their long bills, and gleams in the sun as they withdraw to dart to the next flower.
I’m immersed in this micro-world, spellbound by iridescent feathers, brilliant flying, and that soporific hummm, which intensifies and fades as the tiny creatures move close, then further away. I’ve never seen so many of these living jewels at once, and probably never will again.
Suddenly the garden bell rings; two older men stroll in and notice me sitting on the grass. I point to the hibiscus and say, quietly, “Look at all the hummingbirds!”
Enchanted, they stand there quietly, watching them hover and feed. A small beetle is parked inside a large white hibiscus flower, and then, suddenly, it isn’t. Has the world’s tiniest avian eaten it? Well, one just devoured a decent-sized spider and its fly-dinner. So, why not?
We chat quietly about hummingbird migration habits. So much about their lives remains a mystery, as it’s nearly impossible to track their movements with accuracy. (Workers on oil platforms 200 miles into the Gulf of Mexico have reported sighting the walnut-sized birds whizzing just over the waves toward Central America and Mexico. Scientists do know that they lead solitary lives, which can last over a decade. Recently one bird was miraculously recaptured; its tracking device was 12 years old!)
We are so captivated that it’s well after closing time when the dreamy-eyed men leave, eager to describe our experience to their families.
I lock up, then look around.
A small breeze stirs the perfumed air.
My garden hosts only one small rabbit peacefully nibbling clover in the grass.
At least 12 hummingbirds had visited during this enchanted evening…