This year, the red feeder on the back porch has hung in solitude for weeks. Mike placed it in its usual spot at the beginning of the season in anticipation of the multitude of hummers that normally flock to it. But this year was different from the ones in the recent past; we waited and waited, but no beautiful miniature birds hovered around the sweet treat.

I even noticed a post about their absence on our neighborhood website, so apparently others were noticing the same unusual phenomenon. I couldn’t understand why my little friends had not come to visit this year.

“Mike, that feeder has been up forever, but no hummers. I wonder if we put it up too late, and they went somewhere else? Maybe we should change the food. It has been so warm, maybe it soured in the heat.”

“I noticed they aren’t coming like they usually do, but let’s just leave it alone. I’ll bet some will be darting around before we know it,” Mike answered.

About a week ago I looked up from lunch and was delighted to see one lone, little bird hovering around the feeder. Before I could get very excited he was gone. But that gave me hope that others would soon follow, and they did.

Our grandlove, Gauge, is over hanging out today, and I was happy that he could enjoy hummingbird watching as we chatted over lunch. My fascination with nature wasn’t one that I acquired of late. God’s magnificent creation has captivated me from my earliest memories, and hummingbirds have delighted me from the moment I first noticed one.

Our white ranch style house in Simpson County, Mississippi, had a large mimosa tree in the front yard and usually had a menagerie of children running all over. My older siblings were off to school, and my dad off to work so the house was fairly quiet for a change.

My grandmother on my daddy’s side, Mama Ball, lived with us, but she was quietly resting in her room. Mama Ball played the piano very well, and as such, was my first piano teacher. I tired of practicing the little song in my primer and looked out the large plate glass window at the delicate flowering bush planted there.

I was startled to observe the tiniest and most beautiful creature hovering over the pink, tube-like blossoms. My heart constricted inside my chest as tiny eyes seemed to look at me inquisitively before darting off to another flower. I remember the jeweled tones of emerald green with a touch of scarlet at its delicate throat.

The delight I felt at discovering this beautiful creation never left me. As I sat today with my grandson watching the little hummer on our back porch, I thought of that day so long ago when my heart first felt the wonder of that exquisite creature and the God who made it.

Jan Penton Miller can be reached at lilsisjan@yahoo.com.