The Largess of the Tiny

A day off from teaching and taking classes normally finds me, weather permitting, on the deck out back with a cup or three of coffee. This morning was one of those perfect pre-fall days--breezy enough to use it as an excuse to bring a blanket out along to snuggle in an over-sized lawnchair while reading, writing, and watching the aerial antics of the beloved hummingbirds.
Small creatures, they bring a largess of enjoyment.
I look up at the feeder periodically to see two quietly sitting; instantaneously, the duo rises to three, four, five, six...as many as twelve, darting and shifting, snatching a few seconds at the small bars to have a sip of nectar. Pairs entwine themselves in a circular flight up in the air, and then dramatically dive back down to recover from the tailspin at the last possible second. Others start a pattern of flying in a large "u" shape repeatedly, twittering each time they reach the upper peaks of the formation.
One small female in particular flies over within a foot of me periodically and hovers for a bit; I acknowledge her presence with a hello. I have a feeling she's drawn to my "comforter of many of colors" as much as she is my personality. Nevertheless, she returns much as a small child does having a ball gaining recognition from an adult, running back and forth and happily anticipating that next hello.
As I sit on the deck, I hear in the immediate background the familiar sounds of a combine, a tractor, and a grain cart being shuffled about in preparation to open a field for harvest. There's a slight sense of resignation that accompanies these sounds; I know that harvest means fall, and though a wondrous time of the year in southern Indiana, it marks the beginning of some endings--among them the realization sometime in the near future when I am sitting on the deck with no company of these tiny marvelous birds. They'll be on that mind-boggling flight across great bodies of water to a warmer clime. 
But that's not today; no, today they are fascinating. So, like these tiny creatures that bring with them a largess of joy, living for the moment of that next pirouette or sip of lovely nectar, I'm going to live in the moment and not miss out on any opportunities or discoveries today has to offer.
I hope you will enjoy the day, too.


Have a fine day indeed.

Carnivores Can Be Dainty, Too

I attended a little event today on a road trip and it was pleasant enough; the weather was great, the setting very inviting, the chit-chat interesting. There was, however, one perplexing thing that had me thinking all the way home. 
This was an all-female event and, of course, there was good food to accompany this event. There was a nice selection of fresh salads, rice dishes, veggie muffins, veggie/egg casseroles, etc. There was a distinct absence of meat. It was even discussed on and off during the time we sat down to eat.The conversation would drift to other topics and then someone would comment on how good something was and bam...there it was again. The discussion of the absence of meat. "This is an all-girl party" was even voiced, making that a defense for no sight of the first crumb of chicken, turkey, pork, beef, fish...you name it. If it was even considered meat--nada.
When did females get the idea odd idea that we don't need meat? Of course, if an individual--male or female-- doesn't want to be a carnivore, I'm fine with that. Some of the nicest people I know are herbivores. But all of us? Just because of an x chromosome? When did that happen?
I like meat. I have seldom met a cut of meat from any two-legged, four-legged, finned, or feathered being that I couldn't tolerate. Okay; maybe chicken feet, but that falls into a whole different category. But a cheeseburger, a pork cutlet, a piece of salmon or a catfish filet, and any configuration of chicken or turkey (barring the feet once again, thank you) and I'm there. 
Thankfully, I was cruising home after the party through Montgomery and the burgers were frying at the local Stop 'n Sea. When I got home and bit into that loaded cheeseburger, I was one happy, dainty little carnivore.