I
sit among the salvias and attract curious hummingbirds, even when I’m not
wearing a flower-colored shirt. I
remember the hummingbird feeders on the deck at St. John’s College, Santa Fe,
where the Elringtons lived—the British Brigadier General who taught us Latin,
and his wife who was a nurse there at the college. They seemed so exotic then, the hummingbirds, as much as the
mah jong which we played when I visited.
(And the Latin which I only consciously used again some thirty years
after I learned it, translating Roman milestones in the Alps.) I wrote about the hummingbirds as
little ruby-throated djins, and they do still seem like magical spirits, even
in my own garden, hovering near my chair, next to my ear. To be so tiny and so quick; to live on
flowers—such a life to live!
“By the way, did you fellows know that a hummingbird weighs as much as a quarter? Do you think a hummingbird also weighs the same as two dimes and a nickel? But then she asked a question of her own: How do they weigh a hummingbird?” (Calvin Trillin, Enough’s Enough)
image: Hummingbird
exquisite.
ReplyDeletesitting on top of sandia watching them flitter and drink ...
a memory indelible.
I'm fortunate indeed to have such memories.
ReplyDelete