Bring for SD and Pond St. Some intentional choice of particular flowers and hanging containers of sweet good will bring hummingbirds. The one that visits my friend’s deck outlined in temptation beautifully lives in flickers, feeds itself in glimpses. In an abundant garden I walk past, there hovers feather-bright metal art, the hummingbird god itself, with long-toothed, triumphant wings lifted over its earth, where summer mauve coneflowers darken into their own gold-brown eyes, and blue hydrangeas crackle. This bird must hold all my friend’s small gem left behind in flight, the price of bearing seasoned witness from the formal border of time.
I do not know the name of the artist featured throughout this wonderful garden, but I’m a fan.