As Autumn approaches summer, sweeping her under fallen leaves beneath the trees, plants put forth new buds, along with the old faded blooms. There is poetry to this time of year, where old and new brave chilling nights, perhaps sensing the end is nearing. Could it be that plants sprout out the last of youthful joy withheld till now ... before they close up for the inevitable winter. There is much knowing ... without a brain... for some... of what is to come... in plants and trees... in birds and bees. Great movement is stirring... within leafy wings ... feathers and foliage take their cue and bid adieu. The day is quieter... even cicadas cease clicking tymbals... flocks gather and conquer air... leaving behind those who have fastened their lives ... not so free to fly towards warmer light... lasting longer. Where they head night hangs its lighter cloak later, and life moves freer. We stay and watch natures marvel of change and don our heavier garb. I love the seasons and the freshness they bring, but the departure of hummingbirds does deflate a bit... for I become accustomed to their presence in the gardens... their antics so amusing and magical. Of course I know they must go ... as they always do... as they will come again... but there is an emptiness none other can fill ... a place that holds an opening ... a longing for their little hums and squeaks... their chase scenes and curious inching towards me. I have watched the young ones grow and wish them safe flight to their winter home. May there be many along the way offering them safe passage... food for flight in flower corridors and, where they must, in drought ridden areas, void of flowers... hang other feeders, to nourish, replenish the tiny rapid wings, that carry them throughout their journey. My gardens now offer fuel for passing hummers as migration is in full bloom. Here I offer some last portraits of the young ones and one migrating mature male, along with lovely light white blossoms of the garden. I should add a few words in honor of the Aphrodite... who goes forth with tattered diminished dress... most likely from the Cat birds constant duress... still she can fly and sip and manage to get by.
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