The Snake, The Storyteller and The Bummingherds
by Bella Rum
This guy was waiting on the steps when H opened the backdoor. He moseyed on down the steps and into the mulch. I know he’s harmless, but still startling. The grands would have gone crazy with excitement. They love such things.
What a busy day yesterday was. It started off with an echocardiogram. The lady who did it was an adroit storyteller, and she entertained me with a harrowing tale about an October sailing trip from Boston to Salem. No one likes to bare their old-lady breasts for a stranger, but the story was worth the minor annoyance. I do love a good story and a good storyteller.
After the Echo, we went to lunch and then to the nursery at Lowe’s. I bought a couple of hostas, Texas coral bells and a neat round table for the patio. They had some pretty expensive sets, but I got a reasonably priced one – as in the cheapest one they had. It’s black metal. If it ever needs it during my lifetime, I will spray-paint it in a New York minute with a can of black spray paint. I’m a wiz with that stuff. The Grand Trio will have a high old time eating out there.
We put the hummingbird feeder out, and they found it almost immediately. We sit out there in the evening and watch their tiny silhouettes in those moments as day fades to night and the sun slips below the horizon in its characteristically silent departure. It feels intimate and private. Even though I know millions have seen this tableau, it feels like a singular experience.
Life is good at the moment and I know it. It took me so long to learn that the trick is in the knowing of it – the recognizing.