My father loved nature and whizzed into action in the spring when the snows began to melt in New England.
As soon as possible, he'd get working on his huge garden which yielded a proficient amount of veggies for several months, much to the culinary delight of all the family.
He loved hummingbirds, too, and always called his kids when he spotted one.
"Look, look," he would say, excitement sparkling in his big brown eyes. "Isn't that a beautiful little hummer?" He'd point out how fast the wings would be whirring back and forth.
After my father died, I felt the loss so very deeply. Life as I knew it, particularly as a child, would never again be the same.
One day, while looking out of the sliding glass door of our kitchen, I spotted a hummingbird. She was very close by and flew into a ficus tree growing on the patio and then flew out. Peeking into the branches, one could see a walnut-sized nest with tiny eggs inside. I was thrilled with my discovery.
Coming back into the kitchen, my eyes glanced at the calendar. It was the anniversary of my father's death! Seeing the little hummer was no small coincidence.
Recently, while traveling in the southwest, my heart skipped a few beats when I spotted a mural on the side of a building. The artist had painted the biggest hummingbird I had ever seen. Smiling to myself, I grabbed my camera and snapped the photos shown above.
"Daddy," I thought. "You are never too far away from my heart."
DO YOU LIKE HUMMINGBIRDS?
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