Geranium Farm Home         Who's Who on the Farm         The Almost Daily eMo         Subscriptions         Coming Events
Hodgepodge         More or Less Church         Ways of the World         A Few Good Writers
Gifts For Life         Pennies From Heaven         Light a Prayer Candle         Links

December 6, 2004
I finally put away the last of my hummingbird feeders yesterday -- could have done it sooner, but you just don't know when a last little bird will need a quick energy snack on her frantic flight to catch up with the others who flew south at the proper time, months ago. But there was no little straggler this year, as there has not been in each of the previous years. And there were no prime-time hummingbirds, either, this whole summer. Just the feeders, offering tempting red lips to the sky.

But oh, wait! There was one, shimmering in the air, a pale yellow-green, slowing to find a last feeder hidden among dead brown leaves. And I brushed the leaves away from the openings in the feeder so he could see where to find sweet nectar. And he came closer and drank: long, thirsty sips. He stayed for a long time. Perhaps he was going to stay forever. Look, I said to Q, we have a hummingbird. And Q walked closer, and the little bird stayed so Q could see him. He was not afraid. He's not afraid of us, I said.

Pale yellow-green -- that should have been a clue that this was a dream: the only hummingbirds in the Northeast are the Ruby-Throated, and they do have some iridescent green on them, but their heads are not a pale yellow green, like this one's. This was another hummingbird, a dream hummingbird, the dream hummingbird of my longing.

There was no last feeder buried under brown leaves -- I had gotten them all in, all clean, all ready for next year's great hope. But something is buried under the brown. There is great hope sleeping now, through the winter, hope of new plants, hope of new little people, hope of a new year. Small things are starting now and they will grow. Things that were not will come into our lives, and we won't know what they are until they are here.

I will never forget what my dream hummingbird looked like: his green-yellow head, his black beak, the whirr of his wings. I remember each of my dream birds -- I have dreamed of many. I will always remember the delight and awe with which I first saw him among the dead leaves, the happiness of knowing that I had something for him to eat. Something came to me long after it was reasonable to expect it, and I was ready. I will always remember. I will stay ready for new things. I will not discount them before they have a chance to arrive.
The Diocese of Washington's National Cathedral Advent Calendar is just gorgeous -- it contains photographs of wonderful religious artwork, a page for saying the Daily Office and a meditation for each day in Advent -- and it won't let you cheat by reading ahead, as I tried to do: the windows won't open until their appointed days! Thanks to Judy Brennan, geranium farmer from New York, for alerting us to this lovely site for Advent. Visit it at
Copyright © 2022 Barbara Crafton
  2016     2015     2014     2013     2012     2011     2010     2009     2008     2007     2006     2005     2004     2003  
  2016     2015     2014     2013     2012     2011     2010     2009     2008     2007     2006     2005     2004     2003  

Copyright © 2003-2022 Geranium Farm - All rights reserved.
Reproduction of any materials on this web site for any purpose
other than personal use without written consent is prohibited.

2003-2004 Golden Web Awards Winner     2003-2004 Level 2 Diamond Web Award Winner Humanitarian Award Winner     2004 WebAward Winner for Standard of Excellence