young life

A few days ago, I noticed a hummingbird flitting around my backyard. I told my husband, who said she’s built a nest in her same old spot.

Same old spot? Somehow, I’d never once noticed what was, to Anthony, a predictable part of life at this house.

He pointed out the teacup-sized nest of twigs and feathers, nestled in a rosebush right at my eye level.

This morning, I saw the hummingbird darting all around the backyard. I wondered if there was life in her nest.

Sure enough, I soon saw tiny twin triangles of orange peeking over its top. Without getting too close, I snapped a shot or two on my phone.

Soon enough, the mom returned to her baby, perching protectively at nest’s edge. I snapped a couple shots of this, too–this time, from a greater distance so as to not send her flying too soon.

My six-year-old plucked a dandelion from the lawn, and slowly approached to offer it to her. I explained that she might be scared of him, so that he ultimately left the dandelion perched low in the bush.

The pictures of these moments might not be objectively amazing, but they sure do an amazing job of taking me back to those moments marveling at the sweetness of young life.