Alexandersmap

    Tag: Hummingbirds

    • On Sirens and Place

      “Where you are is who you are. The further inside you the place moves, the more your identity is intertwined with it. Never casual, the choice of place is the choice of something you crave.”
      ― Frances Mayes, Under the Tuscan Sun

      I talk of travel but deliberately spend money on plumbing fixtures that cost as much as a plane ticket to faraway places. You can feel the quality in a good plumbing fixture, you can feel the permanence of it if fate allows it a good home. A good faucet will outlive all of us. Surely it will last longer than a trip to Paris or Tuscany. Does a faucet sing a siren song the way that travel does? Surely not, but never forget that Odysseus was simply trying to get home to Ithaca. Sirens pull us away from home, never to return. Still, we hear the call.

      Surely, this place that we call home will outlast our desire to stay in it. Yet the garden remains, with bee balm rising to meet the sun year after year. The hummingbirds return to meet it, and the butterflies and bees. Bee balm (Monarda) is a bit like me, with a wandering soul. Its roots spread out, testing the limits of the garden, and each year the flowers bloom in a different place than the year before. Kindred spirit, I let them roam, content to see where they rise each year. In a walled garden there’s only so much room to run. Still, the hummingbirds always return, knowing they’ll be there somewhere nearby. And so will I.

      Returning seems the thing. When you have a sense of place you’ll move heaven and earth to get back to it again. But to return means to leave now and then. Knowing deep down that place remains.

    • Hummingbirds in Winter

      “For unless one is able to live fully in the present, the future is a hoax. There is no point whatever in making plans for a future which you will never be able to enjoy. When your plans mature, you will still be living for some other future beyond. You will never, never be able to sit back with full contentment and say, “Now, I’ve arrived!” Your entire education has deprived you of this capacity because it was preparing you for the future, instead of showing you how to be alive now.” – Alan Watts

      I was thinking about flowers. Specifically, Bee Balm (Monarda). The blooms of next summer are currently scheming in the frozen turf of the garden, awaiting the heat of late June and July to burst onto the scene. In that respect, I share more in common with the flower than the hummingbird, which ignores border restrictions altogether and zips down to Mexico and Central America for the winter. You think that snowbird expression invented itself? The hummingbird is one of many birds that bolts the limited prospects of survival in the north for the tropics.

      Still, I don’t mind winter, when we have it. This year is a confusion of rain and frigid temperatures, but no significant snow to speak of just yet. But that’s the world we live in now, with seasons shifted slightly askew, and some uninformed loud people thinking climate change is a hoax, like COVID and election results and any science that doesn’t jibe with their worldview.

      I imagine the hummingbirds I got to know last summer are doing the Macarina with friends from around North America in some tropical paradise right about now. And why shouldn’t they? They flew 3000 miles and straight across the Gulf of Mexico to arrive in the tropics. So go on: guzzle that nectar and dance to your heart’s content!

      Back here in the frozen north, we wonder when the snow might return again, and then the flowers, and finally the hummingbirds. But, as Watts points out, we can’t live in the future, we can only embrace what we have now. We keep things going here, the dormant flowers and their gardener, making the most of what we’ve got until warmer days and open borders.

      As a gardener, I know there’s merit in planning for the future that Watts doesn’t account for in the quote above. Amending the soil, sowing, weeding and generally seeing your crop through to harvest are inherently forward-looking activities that happen in the present. There’s nothing wrong with knowing where you’re going while living fully in the present. Watts knew this too of course, but you can’t wedge everything into one clever quote.

      Here in New Hampshire, I’m packing as much alive time as possible into each day as it presents itself. In six months time, should we be fortunate to arrive there together, I’ll get reacquainted with the hummingbirds, who like to hover at eye level and check out the character who tends the garden for them. They’ll have squeaky tales of perilous travel over open water and jungle reunions with cousins. What shall my own tales be for them? Don’t we owe it to them to make it interesting?

    • Hummingbirds Squeak under a Waning Moon… and Other Observations

      Cool enough for a fleece this morning. It seems summer is tilting away faster by the day. The white noise buzz of crickets fills in. Other sounds penetrate. Cars in the distance getting an early start. Birds like my old friend the Brown Thrasher announce their presence, if further away than in July.

      The mornings are especially active now. The bees and hummingbirds flitter from honeysuckle to basil gone to flower and on to the next. Each have a unique sound; not shockingly bees buzz and hummingbirds, well, their wings hum as they zip by you. I smile when the hummingbirds squeak at each other, a chorus of animated bird banter filling the yard. They largely ignore me as I sip coffee and take in the show. As if to mirror them, the squirrels are jumping tree to tree dropping acorns and hickory nuts that thump to the ground for collection later. Two scratch around my favorite white oak tree on the planet, chasing each other in young squirrel frivolity with their own chirping chorus.

      Looking up, the Waning Crescent moon greets me in a crisp blue sky. This is September blue, always embedded on my mind these last 18 years, a reference point anyone around here that day will understand. A reference point from New England to New Jersey. That day remembered in random moments like this, then gently put aside. There’s a collective joy about September in New England, with an undercurrent of sadness for the summer fading away and change in the air. But it’s still August, even if it feels like we’ve crossed. Seasons come and go, and it feels time for summer to move along too.

      Back on earth, there are a few more tomatoes to harvest, a thriving and ironic grape harvest after my public shaming in the spring, fading flowers and herbs to contend with. Like the squirrels I’ve got to get my act together and do some work to prepare for the cooler days and changes ahead. My fingers are cold from sitting outside a layer short of comfortable. Time to move. So much to do and it stirs a restlessness inside of me. But first another coffee.

    • The Best Available at the Time

      Today I took this picture of a hummingbird.  Well, I took many pictures of a couple of hummingbirds and this one was good enough to post.  I know several photographers in my Facebook community who will look at this and bite their lip at my amateurish use of filters or aperture or whatever.  That’s okay with me.  While I wish the body wasn’t as blurry as it is, these suckers move fast, I don’t have 10,000 hours to dedicate to mastering the craft and at 52 I don’t really care whether someone harshly judges a picture I took.  Photos are time stamps of what I was looking at in a particular moment.  The 25 other photos I took to get this one go into the recycle bin.

      I recently heard a Tim Ferriss podcast interview with Brandon Stanton, creator of Humans of New York in which Stanton readily acknowledged that he’s not the best photographer, but that’s never been the point of it anyway.  His real strength lies in pulling stories out of the people he photographs.  And really that’s why people follow Stanton’s work.  He’s a master at going deep with his subjects.  He also mentioned that he’s interviewed and photographed thousands of people over the years, and most never make the final photoblog.  Those cut either hold back, decide they’re not comfortable with what they said, or perhaps Stanton didn’t find it as interesting as another person he photographed.

      Facebook is where we post pictures of the best of ourselves.  Great sunsets or vacations, adventures we’re on, fun times with friends and family, etc.  And I try to keep up as best I can, though I’ve toyed with the idea of deleting my Facebook account for years.  I don’t because it’s the only way to keep in touch with people I grew up with, worked with years ago, moved far away or simply don’t see regularly.  Some people hate Facebook because they feel like they’re not living as good a life as someone else.  I believe most people will post the good stuff and not the challenges they may be going through in their lives.  Which is why I appreciate those who open up about their struggles.  Chasing perfection is a fools game.  None of us are perfect.  Judging yourself based on how many likes you get is a dead end game.

      I was at two events over the weekend.  The first was a Celebration of Life ceremony for my Aunt Debby.  She was a remarkable, beautiful person who always got me smiling no matter how self-absorbed in teen angst I may have been at the time.  She was incredibly perceptive and could see when you were struggling with something and give you a shoulder to cry on if you needed it, or infect you with her laughter until you forgot whatever the hell you were spun up about in the first place.  I’m a better person for having known her, and strive to be better still.

      The second event I went to was a party with my wife’s work friends.  I didn’t know anyone but Kris there, but I make a living building bridges with people and rolled with the opportunity to get to know a lot of people in different stages of life.  All good people, and I was struck by how close they were as a group.  This was partly because they shared a common struggle to maintain dignity while working with two narcissistic VP assholes.  Having worked for or with some truly narcissistic tools before it was easy to sympathize with them.  I’ve learned not to blindly respect people just because they have a title, but for who they are and how they treat people.

      The hummingbirds are constantly in the garden right now.  Bee balm in particular is a hummingbird magnet.  Wait a few minutes and you have one or two hummingbirds buzzing around.  That meant I had plenty of chances to get a perfect picture, and yet never quite got there.  Hummingbirds are curious creatures, and while I lingered near the garden waiting to check them out they would swoop in, hover a few feet from me and check ME out.  Turnaround is fair play I guess.  They didn’t seem overly concerned about my photos of them and whether I was getting their good side.  If my photography and writing proves anything, its that perfection is… evasive.  So be it.  Sometimes you just need to go with the best available at the time and move on.  This post is far from perfect, but I think it’s time to post it and move on to other things.