“Man is harder than iron,
stronger than stone
and more fragile than a rose.”
You may recall that yesterday’s post was born from finding a dead butterfly
in the yard.
Perhaps an odd starting point, but who am I to question inspiration.
It was a post based on the idea of fragility…
and of how our lives are laced with such a delicate underpinning…
despite our living life to the contrary.
This was not to imply that we are to live life by walking around as if we were
inside of some sort of delicate glass bubble…encouraging us to be oh so careful
and walk around as if at any moment the sky would be falling on our heads.
Rather it was a post to remind us all that life on this earth is fleeting.
For some of us this life is longer than it is for others…
Yet no matter the time,
none of us know nor have we been given any sort of guarantee as to how long
or how short or to how fragile our life is to be.
And my concern in yesterday’s post, for all of us, was how exactly were we or
are we planning on living under this said umbrella of fragile’s time.
With our limited time, health and energy….how are we opting to spend such…
And with any quick glance around…not only around our own country but rather by
viewing the world at large…
It just seems as if the choices being made are simply not choices that seem to
appreciate the sheer fleeting fragility….of any of our lives.
And it also seems that this notion, for me at least, was not to easily come and go…
For the subject matter of posts is simply not always a neat, orderly or tidy
sort of affair…not a one and done sort of thing.
And as I’ve said before, I do not believe in randomness–everything under the heavens
is interwoven and interconnected.
For the very words I write today may be intended for someone who stumbles upon them
in 5 years…in some far off land….
or even words I myself might need to reread and reconsider at some unseen time…
So yesterday, late afternoon…our heat index had quickly shot up as
mid July is now in full swing here in west Georgia.
This time of year, without fail, the hummingbirds will zip into our garage and for
reasons beyond my soul, will not be able to zip out…
they just can’t seem to figure out how they got in to turn around to get out.
They will spend hours circling the ceiling of the garage.
Something to do with the white ceiling and a presumption of depth and space.
They will exhaust themselves if I don’t find them first.
All of which then has me scrambling for an expansion pole that is used to clean
With the pole extended, walking around the garage in circles, with my neck creened precariously back and upward, all the while as I’m balancing said long pole…
I attempt coaxing a tired and confused hummingbird to light upon the end of the pole…
In turn allowing me to dip the pole low enough to ease the bird outside…
where the tired bird flits back from whence it came—the clear blue yonder.
This ritual happens every summer and often on multiple occasions.
Sometimes the bird will tire and simply land on the windowsill…
allowing me step up on the brick ledge where I can gently put my hand around
the exhuasted bird, carrying it back outside, setting it free.
Yesterday however was different.
For whatever reason, while on the phone with my cousin, I looked out the back door
into the garage.
I had to look twice to make certain I wasn’t seeing what I hoped to be just a leaf
and not what I thought…
A hummingbird was laying on the garage floor, wings spread wide.
I went out to inspect the bird.
It was alive and either hurt or exhausted or both.
Gently and gingerly I picked up the tiny little bird as it was simply listless.
The sun was glaring into the garage and the temperature was in the mid 90’s.
I carried the bird outside where usually they will take off once they figure
they are free to fly….
But not this bird.
I gently placed the bird in the empty robin’s nest I knew was still in the
bush by the garage. I thought it would be safe while it cooled down and
gathered back its strength.
My husband and I left to grab a quick bite to eat while I assumed the bird would be
long gone upon our return.
But again, I was wrong.
The bird was in the nest with wings spread wide as I feared it had died.
Reaching in the nest I gently lifted the bird to see that it was still alive but
still listless and exhausted.
Next I actually carried the bird into the house and then back out to the back deck
where I placed it in a small little woven ‘nest’…
I filled a syringe with hummingbird nectar, placing it
along the edge of the nest…just incase it needed a little sustenance for strength.
I then went inside for the night and hoped for the best.
Getting up early the next morning, as I was headed over to Atlanta to met with Dad’s lawyer, I immediately headed out on to the back deck expecting to find my little
friend having perished during the night.
But that is not what I found.
I found an empty nest.
Ours is a covered deck that sits high off the ground so no animals or birds make
their way to this space.
I checked all around and did not see any signs of my wee friend…
So I’m going with the happy ending here…
As life is just too fleeting and oh so fragile,
is there not then room to find just a little tiny bit of happy!
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more,
neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore,
for the former things have passed away.