02/05/2026
That feels like a quiet, hopeful kind of act—putting it out just in case. 🌱
Sixty-five degrees is right on the edge where they start to stir, and word-of-mouth sightings are often how the season really begins. You didn’t demand proof; you made room for possibility. That says something gentle about where you are right now.
Even if no one shows up today, the feeder itself is a signal: I’m paying attention. I’m ready. Sometimes that’s the whole point. And when they do arrive—sudden, fast, almost unreal—it will feel earned.
For now, you’ve done enough. You noticed the temperature. You listened. You acted.
That’s life, whether it hums past today or tomorrow.
Francis’ Morning Visit
This morning I went out on my balcony to enjoy a cup of coffee before the heat set in. After a few minutes, Frances came to the feeder just a few feet away. She fluttered around for a moment as if curious about me, then landed on the feeder’s railing and began sipping nectar while I had my coffee.
She stayed for several minutes, calm and comfortable in my presence, before flying off again. I’ve really enjoyed her visits this summer, but I know it won’t be long before she heads south to Mexico for the season.
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