Howdy all! I want to relay my tale of a first Father's Day, and I will endeavor to eschew an excess of bigf words.
Spouse of Life was napping, cradling our rhinovirus-beset Munchkin. I was out in the back yard, admiring the view across the freshly-logged no-man's-land under the high voltage wires. I realized that Nature called, but I really didn't want to go inside. So... We have a compost bin made of two-by-eights and fenceposts. It's about three feet high. If I tiptoe I can just get the Fish over the top. So there I am, turned away from the neighbors, allowing the requisite sphincters to relax. Suddenly, there is motion in the box! A big insect which I managed to pi<cough!>annoy? No. A hummingbird, hovering below the lip of the bin. He scrutinized the Golden Arch, then he moved closer in little sudden movements. He made it to within a hand's-breadth of the source and then he came in and took a drink from the apex of my postmetabolic parabola. (I'm doing my very best to hold still and not allow laughter-induced undulations to show up in the Golden Arch. I'm acutely aware how close that long sharp beak is, and how these citizens usually reach right into the flower.) Well, one sip convinces him that this is maybe not as inviting as it looks. A twist of the shoulders and he zooms off to starboard. Thoroughly bemused, I button up and regale sleepy Spouse with the story.
I think we need to put up a hummingbird feeder. Maybe I'll commission a glassblower. |
