Spring Hath Sprung

Last night, the rain washed the world clean again.

It started just before I went to sleep, and continued on sporadically throughout the night, a cold drizzle just enough to wet the thirst of the waiting earth and the new seedlings germinating within.

The air was exceptionally cold yesterday, a sharp chill contrasting the glowing warmth of the sunlight. In the shade I shivered as the breeze bit deep through my layers of clothes. In the sun I began to sweat and removed by jacket. In the car, baking in the light for most of the morning, I actually rolled the windows down to let the chilly wind cool me off... only to quickly roll them back up again seconds later because of just how chilly it was. This morning, the rain had gently dampened the air, which the sun was slowly trying to warm. Still quite cool, still uncomfortable in a t-shirt, but welcome clean fresh crisp air. I opened the windows to get a cross-breeze going as I began my morning routine.

The cat was being unusually affectionate, so I followed her to the balcony to let her enjoy what warm sun basted the plants in golden light. The edge of the balcony always gets quite wet when it rains, and I was wearing socks, so I didn't go to the railing, but rather folded my arms across my chest and admired the breathtaking view from a few feet back. Our vista spans the La Mesa valley, and the rolling mountains that enclose it like a tidy nest. (I am still getting used to calling them mountains, as my childhood insists they are just large hills.) The rain had washed the air so clear I could see the individual shrubs on the furthest mountainside, where shadows of clouds darkened the earth in shapeless patterns. The cars on the freeway interchange glinted as the sunlight hit them, probably washed clean from the welcome rains. Even the trees sparkled like diamonds with wet leaves as the morning breeze softly wove through their branches. The finches and hummingbirds argued and bragged in such sweet voices that - although I knew they weren't singing the beauty of the world like I was in that moment - I enjoyed it nonetheless.

It was, in fact, one of the most beautiful mornings I had enjoyed in quite some time. The sunlight warmed my feet and legs as I stood, breathing in the crisp air, soaking in the beauty that life had to offer.

My attention turned to my modest balcony garden, the plants having been watered by the rain, and checked to see if anything new had come up. The nasturtium had recently lost a blossom, but still proudly bobbed one orange head for all to see. Three new buds were days away from bursting open. I would have to be patient. I stooped to see if any of the seeds from expired blossoms were ready to drop, that I might harvest them and replant them.

And then it happened. Without warning or preface, it happened.

A ruby-throated hummingbird, his green plumage announcing his masculinity, boldly swooped into my little balcony, to take a look at the blossoming nasturtium as well.

I held my breath. Surly this little creature, delicate and fragile as he was, would see me move in a moment - or at least the cat, who I could not see in my peripheral vision - and dart away. But no - he hovered there, cautious but unrelenting, wings a complete blur, black eyes bright and shining. In fact, rather than dart away, he came closer.

Before I could fully grasp the situation, he was buzzing next to my head, not more than a foot away. Perhaps he thought I was some strange flower. Perhaps he was testing his boundaries. Perhaps he didn't even see me at all and wanted to check if there were new blossoms behind me. But no, he faced me, his tiny needle-like beak pointed at me, eyes fixed on my face, as though gaging whether or not I was friend or foe. His wings beat so fast they thrummed in my ears, with such force I could feel the sound. He bobbed this way, that way, never more than a few inches, staying very close by. Seconds ticked by like minutes. I have no idea how long we stayed like that, but it was no short time.

Eventually I suppose he grew bored with me, and flew back out, a few feet from the railing. He still looked at me, and bobbed a few more times, before the cat swished her tail and he found refuge in the tree across the way. He appeared completely unafraid, simply confident that he had established his territory.

I had to reengage my lungs. My heart pounded in my throat. What happened was truly magical, and I was still reeling from it.

Hummingbirds are little balls of energy. In the Medicine Wheel, they are heralds of Joy, tiny beings of light and air and happiness. I have held one in my hand once. They weigh almost nothing, as though they are made of thoughts and fairy dust, with a few feathers thrown over. I felt blessed to have touched such an elusive magical creature. It was something akin to touching a dragonscale or finding a stray hair of a unicorn. When I think about it, the imprint of the tiny beast is still felt on the palms of my hands. This is no mere bird.

And now, for a second time in my life, a hummingbird has swooped into my ordinary world, and touched it with gossamer breath from thrumming wings. Doubly blessed by a herald of Joy.

I wonder how Nana would have felt. She had an uncanny gift with the creatures. She lived in the same house for over forty years, and every day would stand by the kitchen window and watch them visit her feeder as she did dishes or cooked. If the feeder needed refilling, she would take it down and clean it out... while the impatient diners would flit just outside the window, chirruping insistently. "I know, I know," she would say, "you just be patient!" They were her friends. More than that, they were almost her totem animal... she had hummingbird paraphernalia all over her house: magnets, pictures, glass window-hangings, figurines, even her door-harp.

... I wonder if that little guy was sent by Nana. Maybe she told them all about her family. Maybe he recognized me from the stories she tells them. Maybe, maybe not. All I know is I have had a visitation today I will not soon forget.