Bee Balms of Summer

This morning I boiled up some "hummingbird nectar" and filled our feeder. In the month since we first came to our cabin, hummingbirds have been flitting by, pausing outside out windows to hover at the sight of reds and pinks inside.

As I started to type, my husband John announced, "Hummingbird at the feeder!"

The only hummingbird that I've managed to capture with my camera today is my earring, a gift from my mother-in-law some birthdays ago:

I perched it atop a bee balm blossom, frequented all afternoon by a twosome of female hummingbirds who flitted away each time I lifted my camera.

Every summer, here at our cabin on the Clarion River, hummingbirds harvest nectar to store as fat for their arduous flight south to Florida or Mexico come autumn.

Here's the best shot I took today, with the hummingbird in motion in the center. Not worth posting, but look at that bee balm!

My son-in-law Jim planted this patch of bee balm two summers ago when he lived in the green shed we call our barn. He created a backdrop of flower gardens for the spot where he and my daughter Kathe said their wedding vows two years ago, on 07/08/09.

Jim officially joined our family that day, but he'd long since become Pinery-Kin: in the two months he'd lived at The Pinery, he developed the same attachment to this place that we all feel. We're like the hummingbirds. We soak up the nectar of summer food, flitting from one pasttime to the next, basking in the warmth of summer before heading off on the long journey through the year until we return to The Pinery once more. Summer renews my soul.